


Enough (to break the ice)

by sky_kaijou



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Coming Out, First Time, For the most part, Happy Ending, Hasetsu, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Post-Canon, St. Petersburg, Vers!Viktor, Vers!Yuuri, from growing up in a homophobic country., mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_kaijou/pseuds/sky_kaijou
Summary: When you've built up an image for yourself crafted by the media, it might surprise everyone, including yourself, who you really are when you look past the smoke and mirrors.It takes a Yuri to make him brave, and a Yuuri to show him there's more to life than skating.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 33
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Yuri!!! On Ice! fic. 
> 
> This tries to follow canon, and post-canon relationship building with a little artistic interpretation. Yuuri places how he places during the first season though.
> 
> There is mild homophobia in this fic, but it will never be violent.   
> There will be M/E-rated sexual content in most chapters.

Yuuri Katsuki knew much better than spending his free time pouring over interviews of fellow skater and Russia’s sweetheart Viktor Nikiforov. But that never stopped him, in all of his glory, or should it be called dismay, with bookmarks and Google Alerts of new articles. In English, French, Russian, Japanese.

Sure, Yuuri only could read two, but Google Translate was rapidly improving. It used to give him clunky translations in which he’d only but fill in the blanks himself with his wicked dreams, pretending that the Russian super-skater was giving him hints in the way he’d address himself, the competition, his personal life.

A spread in the copy of Russian Vogue that had been scanned online showed Viktor with legs wide apart censored only by a stark white chair with slats. He had a piercing stare but was still smiling with his eyes. Yuuri took a moment to lament that he wasn’t the chair that Viktor was sitting on before shaking those lewd thoughts out of his head and copying the text into translate.

By no means did it come out without mistakes, but the gist of the interview was talking about Viktor’s diet and workout regime. Some parts were trade secret obviously but Yuuri understood the early mornings and late nights at rinks, dance studios, running through parks. Yuuri understood more than anyone the diet that consisted of clean protein and salad, often popping a peeled hardboiled egg into his mouth for his morning snack before heading back onto the ice for round two.

Only a little part of the interview skimmed on Viktor’s personal life. Of late, Yuuri had noticed Viktor more reclusive and secretive about his answers. Almost like he wasn’t dating a high-profile starlet. Though Kira Popov and him were titled as Russia’s power couple by every media outlet in English, Russian, French, Spanish, even Japanese, they never explicitly commented on the nature of their relationship.

In Yuuri’s crush-riddled mind (could it be called a crush if it was now a decade deep?), that simply meant Kira was a stand-in, until Yuuri and Viktor met and Viktor fell in love with him and whisked him away to a tiny mountain village where they could raise many poodles, skate until their knees gave out, and laugh at dumb jokes and words lost in translation until they were one hundred years old. In reality though, it was probably a ploy to keep just one shred of secrecy in this stark-white high-profile, over-produced world. With skating came fame. Especially if you were representing worlds, and incredibly attractive to boot.

Yuuri Katsuki didn’t think of himself as attractive, and even he had a following. His roommate Phichit was pretty cute and active on social media, and his followers were in the millions. It seemed like the whole world was watching figure skating these days. It seemed outwards like glitz and glamour and toned-up bodies.

It felt like bruises and heartache and starving oneself so the jump could hold for half a second more.

The attention contributed to Yuuri’s anxiety. Like everything else.

But back to the thoughts about Viktor, yeah? What an incredible man.

And Yuuri wanted Viktor to sit on his face like he was sitting on that seat.

-

In a world where Viktor Nikiforov allegedly had it all - the fame, glory, medals, girls hanging off his arms – he certainly felt like he was blindly going through the paces, keeping up with expectations. Day in, day out.

Pose. Chin down, eyes up. Bite your lip. Flash. Flash. Turn to the left, it’s your best side. Flash. Flash. Give us something fun, a cheeky wink. Scrunch up your nose a little. Laugh. Smile more with your eyes. Flash. Flash. That’s a wrap. Great job today.

_Sitting down with the prestigious Viktor Nikiforov, winner of four gold medals thus far, with a fifth certainly on the horizon, we pry a little further into his fantasy_ the article read with a picture of Viktor splayed on a wooden slatted chair, using the backrest to rest his hands and chin on, skates on, legs suggestively wide, and silver hair brushed just enough out of his eyes to see the glistening blue while still looking mysterious and sexy.

Questions like ‘when are you going to retire’ didn’t phase him too much. With an air of mystery, he simply smiled and said that he’d know when it was time. But there was always the ‘marriage, kids, future plans’ that were a little greyer to answer.

After all, life was whimsical and a little lacking in details when you were stuck to a rink for hours upon hours a day, flying first class to compete worldwide, sticking to diets, fulfilling sponsorships and photoshoot opportunities that funded his lifestyle comfortably for years to come. Nikiforov wasn’t an idiot – nearing the senior years of his Olympic and Worlds reign, there would be a point where it would all just stop.

Stop. Maybe for long enough to hear the heart pulsing in his temples for a life well lived, but only in the fast lane.

“I’m hoping I can find someone who is brave enough to want to commit for eternity in the first place. That’s the real goal. We’ll think about marriage later.”

“Kids? Hmmm. I’m not sure. My future partner and I would have to discuss what it means for our lifestyle too. After all, it’s a lot of work.”

Viktor fronted big events in Russia with a beautiful lady he’d met through skating. Her name was Kira – officially Katrina but that was too vanilla for the starlet. A figure skating career that blossomed into ballroom dancing, her name was on almost everyone’s lips as often as Viktor’s own. Holding her gloved hand gently as she rose from the limousine and glided up the stairs in a Swarovski-dripped gown, Viktor gently smiled to the crowd as they snapped photos together. The sponsors of the event, a prestigious jewellery company, thanked them for their service in their newest ad campaign, whispering quietly about a significant increase in diamond rings after seeing one sleek black band on Viktor’s left hand, and a brilliant princess-cut diamond on Kira’s. Photos sparking discussions on when they were finally going to pop the question, or even better, get married.

Gosh, wouldn’t it be the wedding of the century, Viktor lamented, as he looked over the photos online with Kira resting her head on his shoulder in the limousine back home.

“Yes,” she replied between a yawn. “Wouldn’t it just be the wedding of the century if you, my love, were standing at the altar, wearing a gorgeous suit like the one you’re wearing right now. Hair slicked back, nervously biting your lip. Wouldn’t the décor be wonderful. Wouldn’t the cake be divine. Wouldn’t Makkachin make a wonderful best girl?”

Viktor giggled with the third glass of champagne (he didn’t want to go overboard, of course, in front of someone who had just paid him a sum near six pretty figures) seeping through his veins keeping his skin warm. “Makkachin will be the _best_ best girl. But oh, Kira, what scandalous stories she could say in her speech. I must keep an eye on her from now on!”

She pressed herself into the leather seat, slipping her pumps off to ease her aching feet. “I don’t know that it’s her speech you’d have to worry about. Possibly more like Christophe’s. After all, he’s seen you naked more often than I have.”

Viktor raised his hand to his mouth in feigned shock. “I cannot believe what you are insinuating. You know I have been nothing but angelic, even while he has tempted me so with his Swiss charm-”

“-and smooth buttocks,” Kira interjected.

“AND his smooth buttocks that _everyone_ has probably seen.” Poking his tongue out towards her. “I believe the real scandal is you and that hot little thing you kissed in the bathrooms last week. Mmm mmm.”

Kira threw her head back in a shriek. “Viktor Nikiforov, you’ll give me a heart attack before any of this does.”

“At least you can say you had fun in your short thirty-one years.”

“We’re not dying yet, _Vitya_.”

-

Phichit was lying lazily on the sapphire blue sofa in their shared flat. Training under the same coach, Phichit and Yuuri had quickly made friends, and a lot of ruckus. Celestino said it was going to age him quickly. Phichit argued that it would keep him young and vibrant. The outcome was still to be seen.

Yuuri missed Vicchan so much, his adorable and friendly poodle. Though deciding that Vicchan wouldn’t like dealing with flights and quarantines, and Vicchan becoming increasingly attached to Yuuri’s Dad (which surprised the whole family), Yuuri had left him behind. Adopting instead, Phichit’s hamsters as his own stepchildren.

The only other thing you needed to know about the Thai boy spread lazily like peanut butter on the couch, was his addiction to social media. If his hands weren’t full of hamsters they held his phone. Instagram open. Commenting, liking, sharing. Choosing to take Instagram sponsorships over traditional ones due to time restraints. Phichit loved opening the mail to free sunglasses, or hamster wheels. He’d always give a story shoutout. He made a pretty penny off his 10% off codes scattered around the place.

“Yuuri,” Phichit bouned off the couch clutching his phone in hand, as Yuuri scrubbed the dishes in their kitchenette. Thrusting the phone in his face, Yuuri was assaulted by an angry Russian on Instagram live.

“Plisetsky?” Yuuri asked and Phichit made noises of approval. “He really seems to be worked up about something.”

Yuri Plisetsky was on the precipice of breaking through to the seniors. Though his body was still slender and small, like a lithe cat, his attitude was ferocious like a tiger. Animatedly, the Russian ranted, before responding to comments. A bunch of rainbows entered the chat. Neither Yuuri or Phichit knew what was being said but could gather by the reaction that it was something important.

“There’ll be a translation up somewhere soon,” Phichit nodded to himself, leaving the blond Russian ranting on his phone and searching on his laptop until he found a blog that was beginning to translate it. “Hmm,” he scrolled for a moment. “Seems like someone’s ruffled a bee in his bonnet. About sponsorships.”

“Sponsorships?” Yuuri thought aloud. “I guess I don’t know what sponsors he has.”

“I think they’re all sponsored by Rostelecom, but I’ve heard he’s been in talks with Adidas,” Phichit said knowingly. “A pretty massive one to get.” Phichit elbowed Yuuri. “I will never stop finding it funny that a Japanese Airline sponsors you, yet you haven’t been home to see your family in four years.”

“Ouch, P. That really hurts my feelings.”

“Yuri was talking aboutttttt,” he drew out his voice as he skimmed the article, “not accepting sponsorships from homophobic companies.”

“Kids got some principles. Good for him,” Yuuri said quietly, picking the skin around his fingers.

“Yuri goes on to say like, one of my biggest competitor’s lives in a country where they can’t come out and it infuriates him that this competitor’s leading this silent life. Yuri says he can’t stand the hypocrisy of it all.” Tapping his chin, Phichit thinks. “I wonder if he’s talking about someone close to him but didn’t want to say Russia out loud. He didn’t specify whether it’s a male or female competitor. Could be something to do with gender?” Phichit shrugs. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Good on him.”

“Good on him,” Yuuri echoed.

“I’m glad my fans accept that I’m pansexual,” Phichit nodded along. “I’m glad it just comes as part of the package. I couldn’t imagine being trapped in a cage pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, feeling like that statement mirrored everything his life was about. Trapped inside a cage was certainly a theme – the feeling of imposter syndrome still pressed down on his shoulders.

At least nobody harassed him much about his sexuality or dating life. His lack of partners in both the media and real life had settled those rumours. There were three separate people whose lips Yuuri’s had been on, the first was Yuko when they were twelve. The second was a female competitor in Fukuoka which fizzled out quickly, the third was a male, a college regret and neither party talked about it.

Maybe, Yuuri lamented, knowing that his next big showdown on the ice was alongside his lifelong idol, just maybe Viktor would see him as a worthy competitor. That’s all he could really ask for. He could die happy if he could stand on the podium with Viktor. It didn’t really matter what placement. But maybe he could also be Yuuri’s fourth kiss if he was lucky.

-

Viktor’s blades carved the ice like sculptures every time. Even lazily drifting around the ice cleared his mind, like the Ice Goddess could heal the most gaping of wounds.

And recently his head had felt cloudy, though he couldn’t really explain why.

It was almost time for his last big tournament of the season – the Grand Prix Finals in Russia. It felt almost unfair that it was in his home country, but it didn’t matter where in the world it was held. Obviously, Viktor, at twenty-seven years old, was still the frontrunner but those glory days were numbered, feeling the impact on his knees after throwing himself into the air and landing sharply. Between his receding hairline and falling years, he was nicknamed Russia’s grandfather by some cheeky juniors – especially Yuri Plisetsky, who spat on the ground that Viktor walked on and swore black and blue this would be his last year in first place.

But even the worries about his physical health were muted compared to the cloud in his head. Maybe it was monotony. Maybe it was a lack of competition biting at his heels. Though some had come close in recent years, Viktor’s world records hadn’t been broken. Only by himself since he’d originally broken them four years ago.

Viktor gazed over the list of finalists for the Sochi competition. Expecting nothing less than Christophe Giacometti nipping at his heels, and a few days either side enjoying each other’s company, he really didn’t know too much about the rest of the competitors.

Jean-Jaques Leroy had a bit of a reputation for being feisty, enough so that him and his former coach, Celestino had a “disagreement” and “parted ways.” Michele Crispino was another name Viktor immediately recognised, remembering his twin Sara was also competing. Michele and Sara had seemed fine to talk to, but Michele had always kept a tight grip on Sara’s arm like he was fending off hungry sharks.

Cao Bin had a big social media following, but not so much on traditional platforms. His Chinese fans adored him though. He didn’t talk much at competitions, but Viktor tried his best to smile towards him anyway.

That left Yuuri Katsuki. Resting his fingers on his temple, Viktor tried to put a face to the name before pulling up his social medias. It had been more than two years since Yuuri had last updated an Instagram picture, and a few months since Yuuri had tweeted something that wasn’t just a retweet of sponsorship deals and general competition information.

However, one of the few people that Katsuki was following, Viktor mused, was an upcoming star. Phichit Chulanont. Scrolling through his Social Media, Yuuri Katsuki was tagged in many more photos. Many with hands reaching out to push the camera away or covering his face completely. Viktor gathered the young Japanese boy, who was also working with Celestino, was fiercer competition than he’d portrayed on social media.

God, Viktor hoped so. Christophe was also heading towards seniority. And what a way to step off the ice, too firmly stuck to first place.

Was it bad for Viktor to want to experience the chase for one last time before stepping away gracefully?

-

“Do you have your costume packed?”

Yuuri sighed, open suitcase on the floor, socks and underwear rolled into neat balls. “Yes, I’ve got two of the exact same. We can’t have what happened in Juniors happen again. The crotch ripped out of my only one and I had to settle for another that looked amazing but chafed under the arms. I have two pairs of skates too. Celestino and I always bring a pair each on our carry-ons just in case.”

Phichit smiled, petting one of his hamsters on its forehead. “You know, we’re all proud of you. I’m gonna even let the little guys stay up past their bedtime to watch you! Seven hours difference. Already accounted for that in my calendar. Set a dozen alarms!”

Yuuri smiled, standing up to carefully hug his flatmate. “I’m so lucky to be paired with you Peach.” Sitting back on the floor he carefully zipped up his suit bag and folded it neatly inside.

Phichit grinned, tossing Yuuri a bottle. “Don’t forget these.”

Yuuri nodded, checking the time. Grabbing a pill and swallowing it down chasing it with his _Mizuno_ drink bottle full of water. “Of course not. Without Lexi, I wouldn’t be getting on this plane.”

Lexi was a cute nickname Phichit had called Yuuri’s Lexapro prescription, gently reminding him to keep on top of his medication. Anxiety bit Yuuri’s heels at any chance.

“You mean,” Phichit gently reminded, “without your talent. Lexi just keeps your head calm enough to know what you’re worth.”

Yuuri zipped up his purple suitcase, standing it upright. “I guess it’s about time to head off then eh. Love you Peach.”

“Love you too Yuuri. Show us what you’re made of!” Blowing a kiss from the door, Phichit waved Yuuri off in his taxi, shouting out “you’re not allowed back in the house without at least a bronze!”

Yuuri laughed in the taxi on the way to the airport, where Celestino was waiting. Two business-class tickets in tow.

“This is your reward for your hard work. Let’s show them a little Japanese grace.”

Taking a deep breath as Yuuri boarded the plane, Yuuri knew that either way, this was the competition of a lifetime.

-

Viktor’s disappointment was palpable. Watching Yuuri fall apart at the competition that he’d worked so hard, like the rest of them, to get to.

It was almost insulting. That Yuuri had given up so quickly. That he’d taken up a spot in the finals from someone who was fighting tooth and nail. That could have scored above 250.

Viktor scrubbed that thought from his mind. Who was he to judge somebody’s demons when his were bubbling under the surface? It made no sense though. To train for a decade and fall like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

And nobody had come close to challenging him for the title of Gold Medallist in the finals. Christophe was still over thirty points behind. Improving, sure. But still, thirty points behind.

After a while, Viktor lamented to Kira, it had become boring to never have a challenge.

Saying that to Yakov would certainly earn a crispy roasting though.

Kira laughed, staying comfortably by Viktor’s side when they were both in Russia. “Yes, darling,” she agreed. “But Yakov’s living vicariously through you and your success. He’s like any proud father.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that.”

“You think I’m scared of a grumpy old man? That’s cute.” Kira blew Viktor a kiss before grabbing her handbag and heading out the door. “Dinner, next Sunday? I’m in town again. Let’s compare notes.”

“I’d be delighted to. Safe travels, Kira.” Viktor sunk back into his couch in his apartment, scratching Makkachin behind her ears. Recalling the Kiss and Cry, where everything felt like clockwork. Looking at his gold medal he’d won, but that sense of longing and loss was back.

Viktor didn’t lose.

Why did he feel loss?

Even Kira couldn’t answer it. Perhaps he’d been shy on details sometimes with her. Perhaps it was trivial. She had her own plethora of things bothering her recently.

He had his own excess of things bothering him too. Not limited to but including Yuri Plisetsky and his feisty attitude, and the enigma of the shy Yuuri Katsuki. He laughed at the irony of two Yuri’s causing him headaches.

Not that Yuuri Katsuki knew he existed outside of a rink. He was the only one other than Cao Bin that had never attended a function outside of competitions. Even with other competitors that came and went for just a season, he could have a few banters; talk about coaches and sponsorships and ridiculous expectations under the guise of a bottle of bubbly and an interest in Swarovski crystals carefully sewn and glued to skin-tight garments.

-

In silence, Yuuri stepped back from the rink and let his flatmate Phichit take over the spotlight under Celestino while Yuuri finished his final year at University.

Phichit was getting closer and closer to qualifying for Worlds. Yuuri hoped that a year out of competition, and a little less time on the ice meant he would reignite his own spark with the rink. And it worked, a little, watching Phichit do all the wonderful things that Yuuri had managed a few years prior, feeling that surge of pride in his chest. The first time Phichit had landed a shaky quad. But Yuuri certainly didn’t feel like he was ready to return to the ice.

The longer Yuuri went without returning home, the worse he felt. So, he sacrificed his family, and didn’t get to say goodbye to his sweet and loyal puppy. And for what? Sixth fucking place.

“Yuuri,” Phichit had encouraged, throwing Yuuri’s bottle of Lexapro at his head, “sixth in the world. The WORLD. There’s like, seven billion people or some shit.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to surpass me,” Yuuri said, sighing and taking a pill.

“Yes, you old man. You’ll eventually age out and I’ll surpass you. It’s the circle of life.”

Yuuri just buried his face in his hands and let out a long sigh.

“Goddamnit,” Phichit said, grumbling and exiting the room. “When’s your last exam?” he shouted out.

“May twenty-sixth.”

Prancing back into the room ten minutes later, Phichit handed Yuuri a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Yuuri squinted.

“Flights home. Go see your family. Figure it out. Come back and compete for real.”

“But Phichit, I have a comp-“

“You’re in no state to compete staying here and lamenting. See your family, practise on some familiar ice, compete in Nationals. Celestino will come around to it.”

Yuuri needed to tell Phichit that he was the best friend he could have ever had more often.

-

Kira turned up at Viktor’s apartment, quarter to seven. Beautiful post-photoshoot makeup juxtaposed againt a muted outfit.

“Wow,” Viktor cooed, “I can’t believe you dressed up for little old me!”

She poked out her tongue.

“Well, come in,” Viktor grabbed her coat off her shoulders and hung it on the spare hook in his entranceway. Laid out on the small table was silverware and plates on top of a beautiful tablecloth, and a refrigerated bottle of wine.

“Ooh, what’s for dinner? It smells divine!”

Viktor grinned. “It’s been a while since we had a night with Chinese and a movie.”

“Ooh,” she shimmied her shoes off and sat down, letting Viktor pour them both a glass of wine before getting the takeaway containers from the kitchenette. “How did you know I was in the mood for some sweet and sour?”

“Well,” Viktor lamented, spooning some fried rice into his bowl, “I know you don’t have any photoshoots for a few weeks so let’s have a cheeky wee cheat day.”

Kira laughed delightfully, and they filled themselves with sauced-up pork, fried rice, wantons, Peking duck, wine, and gossip.

Kira loved gossip. But Viktor loved it more. Especially when it was removed from his professional circles. But that didn’t stop his loose lips when he’d had a few too many wines and had swapped out his slim black jeans for a pair of sweatpants.

After so many years together, Viktor felt comfortable enough to show off his sweatpants collection around the house as they lounged on his sofa watching trashy reality TV.

“Something’s been on your mind all night,” Kira said softly, reaching over to touch Viktor’s forearm.

“Wh-what do you mean?” he asked, grabbing her hand.

“Well, something’s been on your mind for months. We haven’t had the time to address it. You doing alright boo?”

Tapping his finger on his chin, Viktor smiled to her. “That’s a loaded question, Kira. You know that. It-“

“-depends on your definition of ‘alright,’” she finished. “Tell me about it. You know I won’t judge you.”

Viktor shifted in his seat, pulling his knees into his chest, and resting his back on the armrest to face her. Feeling a little safer with his guard up, Viktor began to speak slowly. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve recently become more aware of my age.”

Kira smiled. “Yeah, it happens on the rink. They don’t let you forget it.”

“And,” Viktor continues, reaching his hand out to hers, “you know how it is. You start thinking about what your years post-competition are going to look like.”

“How you’re going to spend it, who you’re going to spend it with,” Kira added after Viktor paused for a while.

“Yeah, exactly that.”

Kira pulled her hair out of the ponytail so she could loosely play with the locks as she talked. “I get it. You know I do.”

“God,” Viktor held back a curse, but his face scrunched up. “Why couldn’t it have been easy? Why couldn’t it have just worked out with us.”

“We both know why,” Kira threw her head back and laughed wickedly. “Because on paper, it should work. Minus that _tiny_ little detail.”

Viktor remembered back to a few months earlier when Yuri had popped off on an Instagram rant about sponsorship deals. For some reason, it played in his head almost daily. “Did you ever catch Yuri’s rant about pride?”

“I was wondering when you wanted to talk about it but I didn’t want to force your hand, as someone close to him.”

Viktor just paused and sipped the dregs of the wine that had been left to go flat in the bottom of his glass.

Kira sat forward. “Are you the friend he was talking about?” When Viktor didn’t answer with anything but his expression, Kira sunk back in her seat, swirling her own wine around before reaching over to the coffee table and pouring herself another glass. She tipped the bottle towards Viktor and he tipped the glass towards her. “I agree with the kid. I wish it was as easy as he says it is, but the world seems much blacker and whiter when you’re fourteen. Plus, that shit’s come a long way in two decades. What about you, Vik. Where were you when you were fourteen?”

“In a relationship with the ice, and only the ice.”

“Such the playboy.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to feel more like I’m ready to come clean.”

“And,” Kira said truthfully, “I’m here to support you every step of the way.”

“But it’s so difficult,” Viktor said staring directly into his wine glass. “I worked so hard to get to a point where I’ll never need to explicitly worry about money. So now I can be a martyr if I want. An example. A pariah. I don’t really care. But I do. It’s still fucking terrifying. That I had to work as hard as I did because I needed insurance for what’s going to happen next.”

“I’m sure it’s scarier because you’ve never been with a man before.” Kira looked at her nails. “And it’s much easier to hide a girl-on-girl relationship. Guys think it’s hot. That you’re doing it for attention. That girls hold hands in public as friends all the time.”

“I’m so gay, Kira. So gay. So unbelievably gay.” It was the first time that Viktor had ever said the words explicitly. Years had passed together where they’d talked around their same sex attractions. “I would love to wear rainbow cufflinks and donate to gay charities and kiss a boy in public.” He’d made it clear to her, but solidifying what the feeling was called with the label made it tangible.

“I,” Kira cleared her throat, “will be here. If and when you want to talk about it. We can make a plan if and when you’re ready. I’m not quite there yet, I need to work on my family and getting them to come around to it all. But maybe we can start with telling them we were never together.”

Viktor just sighed and let the drowsiness of the wine take him away. It was too much to think about and he was certainly going to have a headache in the morning.

-

Yuuri had arrived in Tokyo from Detroit and was waiting for his transit in Haneda airport. With just two bags in tow he was sitting with his hood up to stay inconspicuous, but sweating from the lingering humidity.

Turning his phone back on and connecting to the patchy airport Wi-Fi, a barrage of texts came in from Phichit. Sure, other people had contacted him too, Celestino wishing him a good flight, Mari telling him they’d pick him up from Hasetsu station, but Phichit’s message bombing drowned them all out.

_PC: Yuuri  
PC: You will never  
PC: Believe  
PC: check this link  
PC: there is hope  
PC: <click here>  
PC: I am hyperventilating.  
PC: You should also be hyperventilating.  
PC: Please tell me when you’ve finished freaking out._

Yuuri clicked the link and saw a press release, Viktor looking calm but stern, holding Kira Popov’s hand.

_Viktor Nikiforov and Kira Popov break the silence on their relationship._

Yuuri gasped, not sure if he was prepared for the news.

_“I would like to lay to rest any rumours surrounding myself and Kira. Truthfully, we were never dating,” Viktor said clearly, eyes directly into the camera. “That isn’t to say that I don’t love her, but we are not, and have never been romantically involved.”_

_Kira squeezed his hand. “Viktor is nothing but a gentleman. Someone is going to be very lucky to date him and his sweet poodle. They come as a package. Just a warning for Viktor’s real partner-to-be.”_

_Viktor laughed. “The same goes for Kira. Kira has been a wonderful friend. She is beautiful and talented and wickedly funny. I’ve enjoyed getting to work with her on the ice and off. But this is the end of, shall I say, Vik-kira. Thank you for being so kind to us together though.”_

The interview went on to talk about other parts of their long and public “fauxlationship” as the media was calling it. Yuuri sunk into his plastic airport seat, searching up all of the previous relationships he’d ever been photographed with. All beautiful women. All standing just a few centimetres apart. His hand only ever touched their shoulders or back or cupped in their hands, but fingers never interlaced.

Yuuri tried to control his thoughts. The way Kira had all but said Viktor was single. All the times Yuuri put off the word “partner” to a mistranslation. There were never mentions of girlfriends or wives on Viktor’s end. Just partners. There was no way that Viktor was…was he?

Was he?

Yuuri guessed he didn’t really know anything about Viktor other than what he showed on the ice.

Yuuri’s face went crimson and stayed that way for the whole ninety-minute flight home. Because after all, the only time Yuuri knew Viktor had laid eyes on him on the rink was the time that he’d had a mental breakdown and lost everything. Including the chance to convince Viktor that he was worth his time.

-

Viktor could hear the rain battering at his windows. Despite the gloominess of the dark clouds and occasional claps of thunder that caused Makkachin to cuddle in closer, he finally felt a little freer. Like he was allowed to finally loosen the belt around his hips that had been digging in and leaving red marks on his skin.

He didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath so tight. People had shouted after him, asking him to confirm or deny all previous “dating” relationships but Viktor had felt overwhelmed, simply dismissing any further comments graciously and leaving.

_Viktor_ had felt _overwhelmed_. It was a foreign feeling.

Unexpectedly, a phone call came in, from a welcome number. Chris, on the other end of the video, was laying in the Swiss summer heat with a shirt off.

“Viktor! You scrumptious _Blini,_ ” Chris drawled with a grin on his face. “You drop that on us and don’t give us a warning?”

“My ass isn’t flat enough to be called a pancake, honey.” Viktor replied with a sly smile.

“Yeah, but you’re not the whole bakery like _moi_.” Chris fluttered his exceptionally long eyelashes and laughed.

“So, what brings you to grace my phone with a call?”

“Oh, nothing but the revelation of your relationship that wasn’t one at all.”

Viktor sighed. He’d been doing a lot of that recently. “You already knew it was nothing.”

“You didn’t say it explicitly,” Chris defended. “But, we had a clue.”

“We?”

“Me and Adrian.” Christophe was referencing the mid-twenties lad that had been hanging off his arm of late.

“Talking of, how long has it been now?”

Chris held up his hand. “Long enough to accidentally go through with this.”

Viktor gasped. “Congratulations! Engagement? Marriage?”

Chris winked. “The big M. Though we had to do it abroad since it’s not legal yet. Where we did it? That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

“You know you love me, xoxo gossip girl,” Viktor ended, and Chris laughed melodically.

“God, you stopped pretending you’re straight then?” At Viktor’s shock, Chris continued. “I may have a gaydar but I was never going to pressure you into saying anything aloud. Want me to send you a rainbow flag?”

“I can order my own rainbow flag,” Viktor riffed back before catching his words. It was the type of conversation Kira and him had had of late.

“Guess I’ll have to buy you a drink at the Grand Prix Finals. Want a rainbow cocktail?”

“Vodka serves just fine. I feel like I’m going to need it.” He cracked his neck. “How’d you know you were gay, Christophe?”

“Well, my love,” Christophe reminisced, “I always found my interest gravitating towards males. Right from hitting puberty. All the lads would be talking about girls, but I was thinking about them I was thinking about the guys talking about them. At the same time, you must admit skating attracts a queerer audience than other sports.”

Viktor laughed. Yeah, he really didn’t know many explicitly heterosexual skaters. He just pretended like he hadn’t noticed at what was going on around him and got on with it. Yuri had shaken that up with his rant last year.

“Is there someone?” Chris asked, cutting Viktor out of his thoughts.

“I-“ Viktor started before pausing. “I don’t know. I never let myself think about it.”

“Well, do. You might be surprised. It’s not like the skaters don’t talk about what they would do with seven minutes in heaven with you.”

“Like who?” Viktor said enthralled.

“Oh my, Viktor. Quite the wee gossip you’ve turned into. Am I really at liberty to say?” Chris winked. “Next time, take a peek at who seems to be hanging around the side-lines trying to catch your attention and ducking away when they do.”

-

The Grand Prix Finals were in Japan.

After all of this. The year after Yuuri falls from his peak, the finals are literally an hour by train from his town.

Fuming wasn’t a big enough emotion to describe the rage Yuuri felt at the slab of irony.

Phichit had calmed him down. Despite Yuuri’s divorce from Celestino for the time being to work on himself, after falling into a depression back in his towns skating rink, he’d still been invited to be by Phichit’s side to watch the competition. Celestino knew it was the exact motivation Phichit needed to fire him up for his sure-to-be debut next year.

Yuuri was explicit, of course, in saying that this year was just a reset. He’d be back at the Japanese nationals the next.

Phichit didn’t tell him that the invite included the gala dinner. Phichit would learn in a few years that leaving early with Celestino was the biggest mistake of his life.

Yuuri wasn’t a competitor, but that didn’t mean people weren’t ready to see him. Even Celestino.

“Your mother’s Katsudon sits nicely on your hips,” Celestino chided, but with a kind gaze nonetheless. Yuuri was the first to admit his clothes were just a tiny bit snug. And he knew he’d get through that rut. But he had five years’ worth of fried pork on rice was singing his name. It’s like his mother put heroin in the breading as her secret recipe.

“Hello to you too, Celestino,” Yuuri muttered, dressed stiffly in his suit, and downing a glass of wine in record time. While other skaters were talking about their accomplishments, Yuuri faded into the background, knowing his abysmal placing in the Japanese Nationals earlier in the year practically banished him to the darkness.

Still, Yuuri hypes himself up, drinking his second, third, fourth glasses to get a grip on the night, at least he was in the same room as his idol and future husband, “freshly” single Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri nearly chokes on his wine when he let that monologue sit. And again when the extra flamboyant Christophe pulled Yuuri into a sideways embrace and dragged Yuuri into a conversation about his lack of attendance this year. There went drinks five and six. At drink seven, Yuuri was found having a conversation with other skaters whose names he knew. At drink eight, he was in the bathroom sitting on the toilet grinning to himself as he swayed.

He doesn’t remember past drink nine. But he certainly remembers the pounding headache on the train ride back to Hasetsu. And he still remembers the way that Phichit asks him slyly if he’d had a good night, though Yuuri had said he didn’t want to know what he’d gotten up to.

It’d been a hot minute, after all, since their last big blowout at college. At that point, Yuuri had ended up in a tree as a dare, delicately placing a road cone right at the top.

-

Viktor’s skin was on fire.

It started in his forehead, just a dull ache. It wasn’t a hangover. Viktor’s mouth wasn’t dry, and he’d only five drinks over the night before drinking ample water as he hit the sheets. Drinking to excess was much more what freshly-eighteen Viktor did with full access to alcohol and no self-control. And sometimes of late to numb the pain. But many a morning were lost to the thumping headaches and kissing the porcelain god which usually acted as a fine deterrent.

Viktor’s fingertips were on fire. His palms. His shoulders. His hips.

Being physical with Chris, and less so with Kira didn’t feel like this. But Viktor was sure if he looked at his skin he would be marked where the feisty young Japanese man, after swinging his body around a stripper pole encouraged by a mischievous Chris, had grabbed his hips to dance. Pressing his body close like nobody was watching and slurring words in English so much he’d reverted to what Viktor assumed was Japanese.

Where was _that_ Yuuri Katsuki on the ice last Grand Prix?

Phichit had mentioned in passing that something had happened to cause the meltdown. Something outside of performance anxiety. But gently mused that it wasn’t his place to “spill the beans on behalf of Viktor Nikiforov’s biggest fan.” Might Viktor even quote “literally. I don’t know how many posters are in his room in Japan, but in his Detroit room there were seven on display, and more under his bed. He doesn’t know I know about those though.”

Viktor’s cheeks were burning from the compliment before a plastered Yuuri turned up and took his hands.

Viktor could admit it was the most alive he’d felt in a long time.

Maybe since his second gold medal win. Maybe even his first.

Viktor thought a long time about Yuuri’s proposition – be my coach.

Maybe Viktor said he’d think about it at some point in the night if Yuuri could convince him when he was sober. He didn’t know whether that was something he was serious about, but it felt pretty freeing to think about giving his own body a break. There were days now where his knees ached well after practise. Maybe a season off wouldn’t be a crazy idea.

Maybe Viktor would decide closer to the time though.

Rolling over and grabbing his phone in the sterile hotel room, he saw his phone blown up by fellow skaters of Japan and the competition, especially by Chris and Phichit. A flurry of photos downloaded. Viktor with cheeks pressed to Yuuri’s face. Yuuri hanging off the pole in nothing but tight black underwear.

Viktor whistled, feeling heat shoot to his face. Sure, Chris was also on the pole. But his eyes weren’t focused on the Swiss man. Where did Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s shiest sportsperson, learn to do _that_ to a _pole_?

And what could he do to Viktor and _his_ pole?

Viktor gulped, realising where his thoughts were leading. A soft feeling in the pit of his stomach sliding around like jelly.

Was it bad that Viktor could hardly recall anything from the last four days in Japan? The competition was a competition. It was just a Grand Prix. It wasn’t the Olympics. He went through the paces. He warmed up on the ice. Blocked out Yakov’s grilling and did the opposite of whatever advice he’d been given. Did some quads, some flips, some fancy footwork on the ice. Heard some cheers and dodged being assaulted by plush toy poodles. Skated away with another Gold medal.

Yuuri was the single most interesting thing in years and years and years and…Viktor fixated on this for a while longer while his stomach filled with beautiful butterflies. While his cheeks flushed red. He felt too voyeuristic looking at the photo of someone who was so past inebriation. But Yuuri’s cheeks were crimson and that fiery look swirling in his chocolate eyes called out to Viktor’s soul.

And, apparently, other parts of Viktor too. It was a long time coming. Viktor sunk deeper into the sheets and let his mind run free. What he would let any version of Yuuri do to him if he could get a conversation and dinner first.

Or, really, if he couldn’t wine and dine him first but the opportunity presented itself to sixty-nine him? Viktor could probably accept that too. Scrap that. The Japanese man looked like the whole buffet and Viktor was starving. He would accept it. No questions asked.

Reaching over to the bedside table, he pulled out a few tissues and lay them lazily beside his torso. Viktor’s right hand lazily lulled around his thighs, feeling the skin pulling tight as his penis came to life. It wasn’t often pre-coffee he felt like he was in the mood, but the more he thought about Yuuri and the way he bit his lip and sauntered up to Viktor like he was the only man in the room, the hotter he felt until he felt his hand clamp around his penis. Slowly he stroked up and down. It felt good enough, until Viktor closed his eyes and dropped his phone and captured the mental images of Yuuri’s tie tied around his head. Shirt unbuttoned. A tiny trail of wispy hair trailing down his defined chest. Skin soft and smooth. The way Yuuri’s voice slurred Viktor’s name. Viktor wanted to know how Yuuri would draw his name out in the bedroom before putting his lips around Viktor’s tip.

Viktor had experience with blowjobs before. That’s about as far as it’d gone and it was only with girls. But he could just tell Yuuri’s mouth was hungrier for him. The way his pretty lips were full and parted, like Yuuri was waiting for Viktor to paint them white. Remembering his second blowjob with the girl with black hair, Viktor imagined it was him looking back up with hollowed out cheeks. A satisfied moan from both. “Viktor, you’re so big,” he imagined Yuuri vibrating around the base of his cock. Feeling his heart thumping in his chest as his arm automatically pumped faster and his fist tightened its grip, Viktor gasped for air. Gasped for air. Let out a breathy moan.

He thought about the revelation that Yuuri’s walls were covered in posters of him and how many times Viktor had seen him writhe on his sheets before coming.

Viktor felt his body build up to the waves. Holding his breath as he teetered on the edge, before remembering to grab the tissues and use them to catch the spurting mess. _Yuuri_ , he breathed out deeply as he shuddered, and ribbons painted his hands and dampened the tissues. Viktor, even post-orgasm liked the way Yuuri’s name played on his lips. He repeated it as he softened his posture back into the sheets.

Viktor, post-orgasm, wanted Yuuri on his lips in every way possible. That’s how he knew he had it bad.

But who was to say that Yuuri did? Viktor had to come up with a plan.

-

“Yuuri, I miss you.” Phichit sat in their couch from the flat they’d shared in Detroit, a family of hamsters sitting in and around the hood of his jersey.

“I miss you too,” Yuuri admitted, lying on his small bed holding his phone above his head.

“You still got all the posters of pretty boy stuck to your walls?” Phichit teased, and Yuuri did a sweep of his room on video to Phichit’s delight.

“His face is the motivation I need to get back on the ice next season.”

“I’m glad to hear there’s a next season.” Phichit stroked one of his hamsters under its chin and it squeaked in delight. “Let’s aim to compete in the Grand Prix Finals next year together!”

“Well,” Yuuri gritted his teeth. “It sounds easier than it is without a coach.”

“Celestino would take you back in a heartbeat.”

“I need to be in Japan,” Yuuri said slowly. “I’ve really missed being around my family and well, I still can’t shake that Vicchan-”

“Nobody blames you for that Yuuri.”

“Still,” Yuuri wiped the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. “It feels right for me to be here for now. There’s probably a coach around Fukuoka that might take me. There’s some up and coming blood in Japan. I’ll do a little groundwork.”

“Maybe the coach will come to you?” Phichit replied, but Yuuri scrunched up his face like it was impossible.

“There’s a rumour going around. That Viktor’s not as straight as the arrow flies.”

Yuuri was surprised at the return back to talking about Viktor. “Yes, but that’s to be expected. Viktor currently has no official girlfriends on file. It’s only natural that the media would definitively decide he might be batting for the other team.”

“That talk’s not coming from the media,” Phichit tutted. “You’re so ready to discount any chance you have with him.”

“Because he’ll never look at me unless I give him something to look at.”

“That,” Phichit said carefully, “sounds like you have something up your lycra sleeves.”

“That,” Yuuri matched his punctuation, “may be the case. We’ll, just have to see.”

“I,” Phichit mocked their rhythm, “heard a rumour that you have been working on _Stammi Vicino_.”

“I never _stopped_ working on it. I’ve been shadowing it for years. But sometimes it makes me remember where I’ve come from. Viktor isn’t my only passion on the ice, but he’s the one that grounds me and makes me realise life is going to be alright.”

“Minako whipping you good in the studio?”

Yuuri was fond of the dance studio. Minako was the only person in his life that was frank and tough on him once he was already down. He needed that tough love. Minako never pushed him further than he could handle, but Yuuri had left the studio in tears more often than not some years. When Yuuri cried, he rose like a phoenix. Minako understood that about him. Wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit. Wasn’t shy of getting him to do extra lessons. Threw him a key to the studio where Yuuri would work on his posture and just dance when he couldn’t bear the rink.

“Yeah,” Yuuri confirmed. “She’s whipping me good. Still doesn’t want to hear my excuses for failure.”

“Excellent,” Phichit laughed.

The conversation then moved into talks about more nostalgic things about Detroit, University, Celestino’s battle with controlling one of his younger students. Phichit’s new roommate that wasn’t interested in much more than dancing and not doing his dishes. Yuuri in turn talked fondly of his parents, his sister Mari, the Nishigori family. Talking it out made Yuuri feel like a huge hole in his heart was becoming smaller. Maybe by the time the Japanese Nationals rolled around again it would be filled up.

Maybe Yuuri would have a chance to change his narrative on his pace.

-

“I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Viktor had said that aloud twice. Once to Chris, who gave him a pep talk about how Yuuri wasn’t straight and he probably had a shot. Especially with all the cheeky things Phichit had shared about Yuuri’s idolisation of Viktor, and his report card of only ever dating a guy in Detroit. That was apparently short-lived though and Viktor didn’t get a definitive answer as to why.

The other was to Kira, who squeezed his shoulder. “This is the most animated I’ve seen you in a long time darling!”

“But how do I know he wants me sober?”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts. ‘Be my coach, Viktor.’” She marked it with quotations and exaggerated “sounds _pret-ty_ heterosexual to me.”

Viktor was taking a rare rest day in his St. Petersburg apartment, Makkachin lying heavily on his lap when suddenly his phone vibrated. And vibrated. And didn’t stop vibrating. Thousands of notifications on twitter. At least ten messages from Phichit alone in his DM’s. Viktor hadn’t been text bombed like this in a long time.

_PC: Viktor.  
PC: Viktor.  
PC: <video attachment>  
PC: I knew he’d been working on it for a while.  
PC: But seriously.  
PC: If you didn’t think he was serious about you being his coach?  
PC: Aggkjgkglkjglkgjkj  
PC: I’m still freaking out.  
PC: I don’t think he knows this is online.  
PC: This isn’t like him.  
PC: I’m sorry for the spam. Hi, by the way.  
PC: But I want you to hear about this before the public harass you._

Viktor’s heart thumped in his head, not knowing what to expect. But opening the message, he saw a beautiful man in a skating rink he’d not seen before.

It only took him half a second to realise it was Yuuri Katsuki. And then the first note of _Stammi Vicino_ played as Yuuri took off, gliding around the ice rink. Shards of translucent ice flicking behind his skates. A soft look on his face as he effortlessly did step work. A brow furrowing just as he takes off for the first jump.

_Why me,_ Viktor thought to himself. But the body language spoke to him. _It has only ever been him_. Viktor understood. Every decision Yuuri had ever made on the ice was to get through to him. To skate on the same ice as him. Viktor contemplated the heartache Yuuri must have had to fail so spectacularly at the Grand Prix Finals. To run from Viktor when he’d offered a commemorative photo. He must have felt the most intense of heartbreaks. On the fourth, fifth, sixth, twentieth time watching the performance, Viktor had a lot of notes. About the ways that Yuuri could ace those jumps. But none of them mattered when he simply felt the love that Yuuri conveyed through the ice.

The next week passed in a blur.

Viktor made the decision to leave Russia. To respond to the call Yuuri was giving him loud and clear.

To wear Yakov’s screeching on his shoulders and to drop all of his Russian sponsorships.

To wear those subtle rainbow cufflinks on his navy suit when he announces his year off.

To like a few comments on Twitter that noticed the shoutout causing the media to frenzy about whether this was his big coming out.

Because fuck it, if Nikiforov was going to leave, he was going to go out with a bang before getting on a flight to Fukuoka airport and catching a taxi using Google Translate to a tiny town called Hasetsu.

Finding Yu-topia Katsuki wasn’t hard - but communicating once he arrived was. Though Viktor didn’t speak a lick of Japanese yet, it didn’t seem to matter. There was a lot of screeching and Japanese pronunciations of his name. It was obvious he was at the right place, with a framed picture of Yuuri standing on the ice in his Grand Prix Final outfit, looking up at the ceiling and arm raised high.

“Ah, ah,” she yelled something in Japanese with vigour. “Viktor Nikiforov,” Hiroko Katsuki grinned as she greeted him at the door. “Yuuri. Big fan. Big big fan. We also big fan. Very cute dog. Makkachin. Cute!” She grabbed out her phone and typed excitedly into Google Translate.

_Are you here to see Yuuri?_

Viktor typed back on his own phone. _Yes. I hope it’s not too much trouble. When is he home?_

_Yuuri will be home around 7pm. Please make yourself comfortable. Take a bath in the Onsen! We will take care of your sweet baby._

“Arigatou” Viktor said in his accented Japanese and bowed. Hiroko Katsuki clapped gleefully and rushed off to get him a towel. A taller, thin Japanese lady stepped into the entranceway and dropped her basket of washing.

“V-v-viktor Nikiforov?!” she covered her hands and looked like she was about to pass out. “What are you doing here?”

Viktor held out his arm. “Nice to meet you?”

“Nice to meet you too.” She shook his hand. “I am Mari. Yuuri is my younger brother. He is a big fan.”

“So I’ve heard!” Viktor exclaimed, scratching the back of his head.

“Why?”

“Why?” Viktor blinked. “Why did I come here?”

Mari nodded. It seemed like her English was passable, but maybe still not so fluent.

“Because I want to talk to Yuuri. I think he is very talented. Special. Yeah, special.” Mari nodded along and her face lit up when she recognised the word.

Some Japanese was exchanged between Mari and Hiroko who had returned back with some towels. “She asks how long are you going to be here?”

Viktor tapped his finger on his chin. He hadn’t really planned this far in advance. “Well, it depends on Yuuri. If he tells me to go home I will. If he says it’s okay, a long time.”

“A long time,” Mari repeated before relaying the conversation to her mother. A bit of back and forth before Mari turned back to Viktor. “We can clean the room upstairs. It is in our house. Not the onsen hotel. Is that okay? We have not many rooms here.”

“That’s fine!” Viktor nodded, and Hiroko led him down the hall to the baths’ entrance. She pointed at the right one emphatically. “Boys.” She pointed at the left entrance. “Girls. Easy mistake. Careful.”

“Thank you!” he bowed again, and she ruffled his hair like he was already a part of the family.

Viktor stripped down and cleaned off. Soaking his jetlagged bones in the water, he lost track of time. Being in the silence of not having a phone to distract him and no fans banging at the door, he let his mind wander, before letting it just be at peace.

The peace was eventually interrupted when Yuuri stormed into the Onsen and shouted his name before fainting.


	2. Chapter 2

It happened to be the day that Yuuri’s phone was left charging by his bed. Filled with anxiety that followed after media interest in why he’d skated to _Stammi Vicino_ he’d shut himself off and tried to not listen to the voices around him. But especially the ones inside his head saying “ _how embarassing_.”

Recently, he’d been back taking his medication and the world seemed louder too. Lexapro had settled him down but his general anxiety when he’d arrived back in Japan had prevented him from getting an appointment for a long time. Luckily, the family doctor had come to the Onsen and asked when Yuuri was going to see him, before agreeing to have an appointment at home to give Yuuri one less barrier.

Yuuri felt weak for being weak about sticking to his mental health schedule. Mari had all but slapped him back into sensibility. “Shit happens, kid. I’ll make sure you’re going to your appointments from now on.”

How blessed Yuuri was to have a family who loved him. Even his father, who showed but hardly voiced his love, told Yuuri he was proud of him for continuing to work hard.

It was snowing in April. Yuuri should have realised something big was about to happen when he woke up that morning.

After Viktor arrived, he was fed a delicious double-serving of Katsudon. Yuuri was scolded into only having half. Viktor was kind about telling him he was a little piggy, but called him a little piggy all the same. Yuuri grabbed his soft skin after Viktor had passed out and sighed. Between his natural metabolism and his anxiety medication, weight clung to him even when he ate healthy and exercised a lot. A few weeks, well scratch that, months, of eating badly stood out.

Why Viktor had become his coach, he wasn’t sure. He felt guilty. But lying in bed reading the notifications, including one by an angry Yuri Plisetsky telling him that he better hope he was ready for the backlash from stealing Russia’s sweetheart, he began to piece together the story.

Phichit admitted that he miiiight have told Viktor that Yuuri was his biggest fan. “You’ll thank me for this in a year! Invite me to the wedding!” Phichit blows a kiss into the camera.

The Russian media was filled with accusations that Viktor had gone through some kind of mental breakdown, but Kira Popov had come forward saying that certainly wasn’t the case. It was the most Viktor had felt like himself in years. And in turn, the most she’d felt like herself in years too. There was the talk about the rainbow figure skate cuff links too. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or-

-Viktor had been in the game long enough to know what he was doing.

Or maybe that was Yuuri being hopeful. He hadn’t quite settled on which.

Viktor seemed confused at the way Yuuri would pull back from physical attention. Viktor was free with flinging his arms over Yuuri’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. But it felt like torture. The sweetest torture, but torture nonetheless. Yuuri was scared that if Viktor got too close too often he’d do something stupid.

But there were some days where Viktor seemed a little torn too and Yuuri read too much into it. Maybe he’d done something wrong? Maybe there was other things he was working through? Maybe his upbeat personality flittered as much as anyone elses?

Viktor seemed especially serious after Yuuri had won against Yuri in Hasetsu’s skate-off.

The furious blond grabbed Yuri by his coat and threatened him again. “You don’t know what you’re doing and if you fucking mess with him I will slice you with these very blades and take the gold medal straight after.”

It would have seemed like an exaggerated threat from anyone else, but Yuuri took notes. Yuri Plisetsky had the intensity that suggested he wasn’t kidding at all.

Within a week though, Viktor was mostly back to his bubbly self. Whistling in the kitchen while helping Hiroko make breakfast for the family. Showing ample affection to the whole Katsuki household.

Recently too, the Katsuki family was giving Viktor and Yuuri space around dinner time. Two or three times a week they were left to eat on their own. Yuuri wasn’t sure why it’d changed all of a sudden. It started feeling a little more like dates. That bubbling feeling in Yuuri’s stomach made him feel dizzy. Because that simply wasn’t the case. It was just coach wanting to get to know student. Surely. Surely.

“I want you, Yuuri,” Viktor had said accompanied by Fukuoka brewed sake and _tsukemono_. Yuuri had been drinking too, but not at the pace Viktor had. Noticing the change in Viktor’s voice, Yuuri felt a blush creep over his face because maybe that didn’t sound just like coach wanting to get to know student at all.

“But why me?” Yuuri asked, mouth in a perfect o. Eyelashes fluttered innocently.

“Because, my love,” Viktor had recently been calling Yuuri sweet things like sunshine and sweetheart, which drove him crazier. “I see the way you shine.”

“You want me more than you want your life in Russia?” Yuuri clapped his hand over his mouth realising how that sounded.

“Yuuri,” Viktor spread his legs wide and dug his toes softly into the tatami mats. “Yuuuuuri.” When Viktor was mellower, Yuuri felt drunk off the way Viktor drew his name out. Viktor’s knee brushed against Yuuri’s. “That life isn’t me.”

“It seemed like you.”

Viktor shrugged his shoulders as Hiroko slipped into the room and laid out the nabe pot and gave them the ingredients to put in themselves before slyly slipping out again. “You bought into the illusion.”

“Illusion?” Yuuri raised his eyebrow as he fired up the gas and put the vegetables and pork in as it quickly came to boil.

“Viktor the prince. Such a fairytale. In my early years with women on my arms. In the later years with Kira by my side. Playboy turned domestic.” Viktor accompanied it with exaggerated arm movements, causing the post-onsen robe to slip off his left shoulder. He didn’t bother to adjust it and Yuuri tried to avoid glancing at it.

“Are you telling me it was all fake?”

“Completely. One hundred percent. Why would I never do so much as to kiss the women of my ‘dreams’ in public? Even though it would have been the perfect fanservice.” he quoted it with his fingers before drinking as if to make a complete statement. Yuuri didn’t know if it was the alcohol allowing him to talk or if Viktor was just ready. But he kept listening and Viktor kept filling the silence.

“Isn’t it a clever marketing tool? You sell merchandise and tickets to your matches when people think you’re a god. The image of being unattainable drives fans even crazier. The tabloids are waiting for your wedding rings. A jewellery company gives you a stupid amount of money for a photoshoot that takes a single day because it markets an image. Love.”

“Love,” Yuuri repeated gently, spooning the cooking nabe into a small bowl and placing it gently in front of Viktor, before serving himself.

“Love. Though I felt so far from loved when I was faking it. It was just a fantasy with two beautiful people in soft makeup and designer clothes. I love Kira. I do but not like they think. Not romantically.”

Yuuri let out a breath he was holding as he felt Viktor shift his body weight further against Yuuri’s side. Eating slowly to not burn his mouth with his right hand, Yuuri put his left arm around Viktor’s shoulders and let him relax more, fingers connecting with exposed skin.

“You want to know what I’ve learned about love?” Viktor said, blowing on the food and slurping it up before chasing it with more sake.

“Of course I do. I’m learning too.”

“Love is what I have here in Hasetsu.”

Yuuri was sure the silence was exactly six seconds long but it could have been a lifetime.

“Love is,” Viktor continued, “the way your parents try to speak to me in English. The way I’ve learned a little Japanese in return. How the Nishigori triplets offer excitedly to take Makkachin for a walk when we’re busy and tell me excitedly about how they’ve learned basic mathematics to calculate ice skating scores because they adore _you_. Love is this delicious food that fills my soul. Love is,” Viktor placed his chopsticks down for a moment and used his thumb and index finger to grab Yuuri by his chin and brought their eyes together, “how you carve beautiful shapes in the ice and learned _Stammi Vicino_ to get my attention.”

“Love is-” Viktor leant in towards Yuuri and Yuuri felt his breath hot on his lips. It was going to happen. Viktor was going to kiss him. Yuuri closed his eyes and grabbed both of Viktor’s shoulders in his hands.

“-MAKKACHIN!” screamed a voice down the hall. “That is NOT FOR YOU!” Yuuri’s older sister yelled in Japanese.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, before they both fell into a fit of laughter.

Makkachin stole some _karaage_ that night. Yuuri will never forget that night.

-

In the weeks that followed, Yuuri was much more comfortable with Viktor snuggling beside him in bed. Viktor pretended for a lot of it that it was accidents when they’d wake up in each other’s arms. Yuuri had been more willing to let them lie like that after his alarm went off for just ten minutes before getting out of bed.

Viktor was much more comfortable with how that made him feel. Like a teenager with his first crush.

Some days though, Yuuri would pull back and ask for space. Viktor did his best to respect Yuuri. It seemed like he was on his own journey with physical contact. Maybe sexuality too? Maybe Yuuri already knew where he was? Regardless, there was chemistry there.

It had been twice now that Viktor and Yuuri almost kissed. Comically so, after Makkachin got into the _karaage_ , the second time was when they were snuggled up in bed. It was a dangerous game to think about kissing Yuuri while pressed up against his soft body. But just as they were talking holding hands and facing each other, Makkachin jumped up on the bed and wanted attention and sprawled out digging her paws into Yuuri’s thighs. Yuuri snuck back off to his room then knowing the battle with the oversized poodle was a losing one. Viktor got out of bed and dealt with the roaring fiery pit in his stomach.

Something would have happened. He didn’t know how far. But he knew that they were well past platonic intimacy. The way Yuuri’s hair fell into his eyes and the flush on his cheeks as they talked with their voices low because while Viktor’s room was the furthest away from the other sleeping Katsuki’s, the walls were thin. It also wasn’t explicitly advertised that Yuuri was spending more time in Viktor’s bed than his own.

He thought about Yuuri’s smooth skin. The way he hit the ice. The way he sleepily said Viktor’s name with an unfamiliar hoarseness. It wasn’t the first time Viktor was holding a hand over his mouth as he held his breath to hold in a moan.

(Wouldn’t Viktor love to know that Yuuri locked his door behind him for the night and muffled his moans as he violently orgasmed saying Viktor’s name.)

Viktor’s drinking with Minako in a tiny alley in Hasetsu after dark. It’s October and Yuuri’s made it past the Chugoku Shikoku and Kyushu championship. Viktor expected nothing less. But it’s still a relief that his trajectory is upwards still. A scarf wraps tightly around his neck and a knee length jacket lets them drink in ease outdoors. Hasetsu’s nights are still above ten degrees, for now.

“What are your intentions with Yuuri?”

Minako can speak fluent English from all of her years performing overseas, which suits Viktor better than his broken Japanese. He’s been working hard absorbing the language around the Onsen and rink. Japanese is much harder to learn than a romantic language and Viktor can’t write much more than Hiragana and Katakana, and knows he has a thick accent. But he’s trying and Toshiya especially claps in delight when Viktor manages to hold a conversation now. Even if it is basic like _“I like sake. Would you like more sake? It’s a sunny day today. See you.”_

“Get him a gold medal?”

“And?”

“And?” Viktor tipped his head as he sipped a cocktail.

“Have you fallen for his charms yet? We all know he fell for yours.”

Viktor just nodded for a while. “Yeah.” He fills the silence with finishing his cocktail and messily ordering another in Japanese, and Minako smiles to herself at the effort. “It might sound crazy. But he’s changing me.”

“I can see that.” Minako brushed hair out of her face. “You going to join me too in the studio? You said this year was but a hiatus.”

“I suppose I should get more into it all soon. I’ll work out my schedule with you next week?”

Minako seemed satisfied at that response. “Yuuri said his goal was to compete _against_ you. I don’t think he counts what happened two years ago as a real competition. Could you be such a selfish boyfriend to deny him of a showoff at next year’s Grand Prix Finals?”

“Not boyfriends,” Viktor interjected.

“Cute. You don’t have a label for it. Whatever keeps you happy.” She rolls her eyes in response.

“Do you,” Viktor cleared his throat. He couldn’t ask this question to Mari. Maybe Yuko because Yuuri had admitted they’d kissed once upon a time, but even she might not be so clued in to anything further. “Do you know Yuuri’s romantic history?”

“Are you asking as a coach working on his Eros routine, or as a nosy ‘not-boyfriend’ who wants to figure out what Yuuri’s willing to do?”

“Uh,” Viktor blushed. “ _Both_?”

“If you’re not asking Yuuri directly, that’s a question for Phichit Chulanont. I don’t know of anybody long-term though. You owe him a lot of rent for the space in his head.” She flagged down the bartender and ordered another drink for herself. “You miiiiight have been in his sights since you had long beautiful hair. He might have named his dog after you. These are things I cannot _confirm_.” She smirked. She absolutely could confirm.

“I see,” Viktor muttered in Japanese and Minako laughed.

“You’re really like a sponge to Japanese.

-

Viktor goes to kiss Yuuri but steps aside to a bleeding nose. He remembers the shrill sound of the crowd gasping, like they’d expected to happen, followed by a sigh when it didn’t. But Viktor’s suit was label, and they’ve got press conferences afterwards.

Yuuri goes to kiss Viktor but gets stopped by his mother walking in to announce that dinner is ready. Luckily, they’re not in a compromising position. They’re just sitting facing each other sitting cross-legged on Yuuri’s bed. Skaters costumes are spread all over the floor like they’ve been hard at work. Hiroko still smiles over dinner like she knows their relationship has reached the next step. Not just coach and student anymore. Maybe she doesn’t know-know the extent of it all. After all, Viktor is European and free with his body language.

(Yuuri has never come out to his mother but he appreciates her motherly intuition is sharp. She’s only ever made comments about finding a “partner” and not a “girlfriend.” Looking back now, Yuuri’s appreciative of her casual acceptance of whatever makes her children happy.)

Viktor goes to kiss Yuuri but remembers they’re at an Onsen and there are customers around and if Mari finds out she’ll personally rake Viktor over the coals first, and then Yuuri who should _know better_.

Yuuri goes to kiss Viktor after he’s announced that Love is the theme of his season. He only stops because they’re still in public and he doesn’t want to make that first step with the risk of rejection.

Viktor kisses Yuuri’s forehead while they’re on the plane and Yuuri lets out a soft sigh in his sleep. It’s not the first time his lips have touched Yuuri like that, but it feels a lot more intimate than any other because he rests them there for more than a second and murmurs in Russian so Yuuri can’t understand that he’s such a beautiful ray of sunshine. But Yuuri still shifts a little like he understands. Viktor feels his heart thumping in his chest wildly. The boy is so soft. So sweet. He wants to protect him from the world and give him all the happiness.

Viktor finds a photo surface online of Yuuri and him holding hands on the way to the hotel. It wasn’t a brand-new development in their relationship – between kiss-block two and three Viktor had been more forthcoming with his most intimate affections and Yuuri had begun reciprocating. Holding hands was the encouragement Viktor needed and his heart soared every time Yuuri would squeeze his hand back. It’d become a way of communication. Squeeze once and hold if you’re comfortable. Twice if you need to get out of whatever situation you were in. Yuuri’s anxiety had ramped up as the competitive season did and the expectations on him did too. Yuuri couldn’t always vocalise his anxiety. So, it seemed to work.

Viktor didn’t know a whole lot about anxiety. But he’d spent time talking to Phichit and Mari about how it presented in Yuuri and tried to be mindful of the warning signs. He’d gone to one of Yuuri’s doctor’s appointments, and once to a therapy appointment too at Yuuri’s shy request. The best investment Yakov had installed in Viktor was a once-a-month mandatory therapy appointment. Yuuri had admitted it was helping but it was hard to talk about performance anxiety.

Whenever Yuuri seemed to be brooding and untalkative, Viktor would open the conversation with the cheesiest line he could muster. “How much does a Panda Weigh?”

The first time Yuuri heard that it was unexpected, and he howled with laughter. If Yuuri’s feeling up to talking, he’ll smile and say “enough to break the ice,” and let Viktor in just a little. It’s normally enough to get close enough to Yuuri to make sure he’s drinking his water, taking his medication, and practising breathing exercises.

Viktor gets asked point-blank if they’re dating by a French media outlet on the sly while Yuuri is stretching and working the rink the day before his Short Program at the Cup of China. Viktor blinks twice at the camera before saying “my prodigy and I are still at the strictly business part of our relationship.” That part is only at most, vaguely true anymore. Viktor shrugged and said in Russian “who’s to say what’s next.” Because, even Viktor’s not sure.

-

Yuuri finishes mid-afternoon to take some time to catch up with Phichit on a couch in his hotel room and Viktor goes off to see Chris. It’s about time Phichit and Yuuri had some time together. Video calls really don’t do it justice when they’re best friends and they’ve been so attached for years.

Phichit is eating some grapes and hydrating well. Yuuri feels too nervous to eat right now but knows Viktor will shove some food down his throat later on when they meet again for dinner. That’s one thing Viktor notices as a symptom of his anxiety is erratic eating patterns. He can binge eat, he can go for days without eating at all, depending on the situation. Yuuri sticks to drinking iced water. He might have anxiety but he’s not _that_ much of an idiot.

“Are you feeling good about tomorrow?” Phichit asks, spitting a small pip out into a paper towel.

“I…am!” Yuuri said. Comparatively anyway. This competition feels better than the last, and maybe it’s because seeing his best friend competing beside him is all the motivation he needs to enjoy it a little. When nobody is watching, the ice is a lot of fun. Even when buried in training for a competition. The ice is stressful. But it’s fun. Yuuri fell in love with the feeling the ice gave him. And then the feeling of watching Viktor command the ice. “How about you Peach?”

Phichit is a lot less modest than Yuuri which is a fun dynamic. “I know I’m ready to carve it up. Celestino is a fantastic coach and he learned a lot from teaching you.”

“Was I a bad student?”

Phichit shakes his head violently. “Not at all! You have done fantastically under both him and Viktor.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he whistles. “So, who’s under who?”

Yuuri choked on his water. “ _Peach_!” Phichit giggled. “Nobody’s under nobody.”

Phichit looked physically pained. “You mean to say you’ve not been able to get rooty-tooty with the hottest slab of meat in the skating world yet? What _torture_.” Phichit made an exaggerated pained face and put his hand to his forehead.

“I don’t know if he’s interested.”

“YOU, my sweet dear friend, are a blind idiot. That man is so infatuated with you. I _demand_ to be your best man.”

Yuuri laughed lightly. “Well, I guess you might be right. There seems to have been some tension. I swear he was going to kiss me. I was certainly going to kiss him.”

“What happened?”

“The stupidest stuff. You wouldn’t even believe.” Yuuri then tirades about Makkachin stealing fried chicken, kicking him out of bed, his mother walking in.

“-because it’s so heterosexual to share a bed-” Phichit interrupts and Yuuri hits him with a cushion.

His mother, the bleeding nose. And a few other small but important anecdotes Yuuri had filed tightly in his brain. In ten years, Yuuri will probably look back on this period of his life and laugh and how they spent months in this stupid pre-kiss limbo. But at least it’s an innocent kind of drama.

“Dude. Maybe you just need to take your chance while you’re here. You’re sharing a hotel room, aren’t you?”

Yuuri nodded. “Maybe once the cup is over. We’re heading straight to Russia since the Rostelecom cup is in a week.”

“Hotels?”

“We’re staying at Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg for the first few days before heading to Moscow. He’s ordered me to take a rest from the rink two days after each competition to give my muscles time to recover. Only a light run and yoga in the apartment.”

“Maybe you can stretch some other muscles,” Phichit wiggled his eyebrows and Yuuri hit him again with the cushion. “Doesn’t it feel awfully domestic of you to go to his apartment when you can more than afford to have a hotel for the whole week?”

“And deal with other skaters’ egos milling about? No thank you. Besides, Viktor has some things he wants to deal with back home.” Yuuri began to pick the skin around his fingernails though. “Peach, I get to see his apartment. Where he spends his life.”

“Spent his life,” Phichit gently reminds. “He’s spending it with you and your family right now. And he seems to love it. I haven’t seen that man smile so much in years. Ear to ear grins. They suit him better than his soft Gold-medal-receiving smiles.”

Yuuri reached over to pinch a grape from Phichit’s plate. “Okay, I should head back to my room. But I’ll see you out on the ice tomorrow.”

“May the best skater win, Yuuri!” Phichit stood up and gave Yuuri a tight squeeze of a hug before cupping Yuuri’s cheeks. “You’re going to be amazing. They won’t know what hit them.”

-

“How is that sweet little bowl of saucy katsudon treating you?” Chris asked, over a glass of water and a bagel, as instructed by his coach the day before a competition. It was the most sober and behaved Chris and Viktor had been when in a room together for a long time. They were in Chris’ hotel room, sitting on the balcony in metal chairs. The November air was a little nippy, but ice rinks were colder.

“He is treating me well,” Viktor picked at his small bowl of pasta salad that he’d bought from the convenience store opposite the hotel.

“You are the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I love him, Chris.” Viktor cups his hand over his mouth realising what he’s said for the first time aloud.

“Yeah, we know. We all can see it in the way your eyes pop out of your head when he so much as makes eye contact with you.”

“I’m waiting for him to be ready.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to be ready too?”

Viktor stopped to think. He hadn’t explicitly told Yuuri about his dating past, just that most of it was fake. He hadn’t explicitly said he was gay either. There was initially the fear of rejection – like Yuuri would be chased away knowing that and refuse any more physical contact that wasn’t strictly business.

But it was selfish to withhold that information too. And recently Yuuri had been meeting him closer to halfway than before. Holding his hand in public felt like a huge leap for both of them considering Viktor was shielding himself from the backlash when he arrived back in Russia. It was only just twenty years ago that gay sex was legalised in Russia. The country was conservative. Probably not so much his skating family. Yakov couldn’t care less. Yuri Plisetsky had gone on record to support LGBT rights which had realistically spiralled this whole coming-of-age _thing_ for Viktor too. Yuri seemed to weather that storm fine. Maybe because he had a lot less to lose and a lot more tenacity.

“Maybe you’re right,” Viktor finally admitted. “Maybe we’re both just really useless at this.”

“Well,” Chris leaned in and winked, “you were never very good at the interpersonal stuff. You relied on your charm and good looks to keep you moving through life and you never sat down to make friends until you met Kira. Who isn’t even somebody you’re interested in dating.”

“Wow, just slice me where it hurts why don’t you?” Viktor scowled. But Chris has a point. He approached most of his life like a calculation. He needed to do x, y, and z, to secure a victory. It was never about true feelings. Kira was his first run at human connection that he didn’t expect a specific favour or outcome from. That was overwhelming in itself for the first while. Until he learned that she was exactly the same. Then they laughed at each other like maniacs. Skaters hearts were made of ice and melted when flying too close to the sun and shattered when falling from the height. Viktor had done his best to analyse this and insulate himself in bubble wrap and reinforce his wings with steel.

But he’d been skating for twenty years. He’d won so many awards. He’d had so much happiness.

Looking at the next twenty years of his life, he’d thought long and hard about what he’d wanted. Something stable. Some _one_ stable. He knew his beauty was fading, like his hairline.

“You’re right,” Viktor said after a long silence. “I need to stop acting like he’s this forbidden fruit. His body language seems to accept us as a concept.”

“The kid had posters of you all over his walls.”

“The kid had posters of me all over his walls,” Viktor repeated with a grin. “Alright, I’ll make it my goal to tell him when we’re in St. Petersburg early next week.”

Chris winked. “Congratulations in advance on the sex. The dancers are always the best sex. They’re the most flexible and have the tightest little tooshies. Know how to work their hips. Can’t believe you get to skip the awkward teenage virginity phase.”

Viktor gave him the finger as he waltzed out the door.

-

Yuuri was napping, spread out starfish on the bed when Viktor returned to the hotel. His shirt had ridden up on his right hip and showed just enough smooth skin laced in tiny stretch marks that Viktor thought were beautiful. Viktor had them too over his back from when he’d gone through a growth spurt around his fourteenth birthday. Viktor paused at the door just watching, pulling it shut quietly behind him. Yuuri snored softly. Cheek pressed into the pillow and creases around his face where it imprinted.

Viktor tiptoed over to the bed, fixated on the skin. He put his lips to the slither of exposed skin and Yuuri shifted under him.

So Viktor raspberried him. And pinned Yuuri’s hips to the bed as he woke up and tried to flail.

“Vikkkkkkkkkkktorrrrrrrr!” Yuuri screeched, giggles bubbling through the terror. Viktor climbed on the bed and worked his raspberry away from Yuuri’s hip and up to his soft stomach, squealing in delight. Viktor’s lips burned from the contact and he realised he was in dangerous territory feeling Yuuri’s heartbeat quicken and a breathy sigh escape from his lips. He quickly recovered by jumping off the bed.

“Good morning sunshine!” Viktor beamed. “It’s 7pm. Time for dinner. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes?”

The night before a competition was always a high carbohydrate affair. Yuuri’s favourite was sweet potatoes so Viktor had swung by a market where Chris had tipped him off earlier about roasted sweet potatoes being sold. Plus plenty of chopped vegetables dipped in hummus that Viktor prepared in the tiny kitchenette. The hotel was prepared for the big sports competitions and quite happily provided a blender for use.

“Alright,” Yuuri said, shifting his weight onto his forearms and waiting for Viktor to turn his back before sauntering quickly into the bathroom. “I’m going to have a quick shower.”

Yuuri was already intending to have a shower that night, but presented with a burning trail marked along his stomach where his blood had rushed and continued south, he really just needed some time to himself.

So, locking the bathroom door and putting a hand over his mouth as he let himself relieve the tightness that had sprung to life. As it was, Yuuri had already been subjected to erotic dreams after talking to Phichit about being brave enough to pin Viktor down on the bed and attack his neck. He’d heard a range of little sighs that Viktor breathed out when sleeping peacefully, or when Yuuri would brush hair out of his eyes to stare intently for a few seconds before realising he was being way too obvious. Those sighs escaped Viktor’s lips in his dream, just before Viktor had pressed his own lips in real life to Yuuri’s skin.

Viktor had to know what he was doing by now. Because he’d never quite gotten that intimate before.

Maybe Viktor was at the end of his rope. Maybe Viktor wouldn’t be opposed to exploring each other with tongues and fingers and soft touches and rough pulls.

It didn’t take Yuuri long at all to fall apart. It never really did, but even less so on days where Viktor had touched him. Especially now, because Viktor only needed to move eight centimetres south to really make Yuuri’s dreams come true.

And come he did. Watching it wash down the drain. Yuuri supposed he should feel embarrassed that he’d been so quickly affected by it all. But all he could feel was a burning desire to break through this wishing for a miracle.

Quickly washing his hair and drying himself looking in the mirror, he realised his face had become slimmer and he no longer looked like a soft prepubescent boy. His jaw was sharper. His eyes were too. If Viktor couldn’t fall in love with this version of himself then he really had no chance in hell. Better to make the most of it soon.

Viktor happily shared the food he’d lovingly prepared with Yuuri, making light conversation. Yuuri thought it tasted amazing being handmade, and thanked Viktor a million times for taking care of him. At points, Viktor touched Yuuri lightly, like brushing food off the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Yuuri was glad he’d taken care of himself in the bathroom or he would have been mighty tempted to be bold and take the thumb in his mouth.

No, that was a dangerous thing to think. Yuuri knew that he had very little self-control left. When Viktor had arrived in Hasetsu, there had been about twenty red strands tying his hands behind his back to keep him from acting up. He was down to probably his last two.

When Viktor slept peacefully beside him, stomach full and smile across his face, Yuuri took a while to fall asleep himself. He wanted to remember this moment. The first competition where he didn’t feel like a complete nervous wreck. There was everything perfect about his theme of love.

When Viktor rolled onto his other side and slung his arm over Yuuri’s waste sleepily and told him to have sweet dreams and babbled something in Russian that Yuuri knew was something he reserved just for Yuuri but he wasn’t sure what it meant. Just that it was sweet. That broke his third-to-last thread.

_Fuck_.

-

Viktor’s been sitting side-line during Yuuri’s Short Program. Watching his body carve the ice and gain an impressive score shooting him to first place by a soft margin. Eight points and some change chases Georgi Popovich in his Russian glory. But Yuuri seems determined to not let that shake him.

But from finishing confidently on the ice to retreating to the hotel room, something changes. There’s a notable phone-call between Yuuri and his Hasetsu family which causes his hands to shake. Viktor knows the signs. He’s done his best to study them. But nothing he does seems to work. Yuuri is spiralling. Viktor does what he knows best and wraps his arms around Yuuri and whispers in his ear that they need to count to ten and take deep breaths. Viktor organises another appropriate dinner, which takes a lot more convincing to make Yuuri eat. Viktor feels like he’s dealing with a stroppy toddler at times. Viktor contemplates leaving Yuuri alone tonight when Yuuri shuts him out physically. But remembers that’s the exact _worst_ thing he could do. Viktor says a prayer to whatever deity that might exist to let Yakov forgive him for being the worst come competition time too.

Apparently Yuuri doesn’t sleep but Viktor has a comfortable frolic in dreamland snuggled into Yuuri’s chest.

Viktor tells Yuuri to not practise his jumps but Yuuri is too stubborn to listen to him. Viktor wished he could have been mad but he wasn’t. Because he was that student not just one year ago.

Yuuri doesn’t know how many emotions he’s processing at once as he sobs in the carpark after being told off by Viktor. But he’s never cried before a competition before. He feels light. Like a feather being carried into the wind. And seeing Viktor’s face as Yuuri cried snapped the second-to-last thread.

Yuuri delivers the best performance of his life and Viktor rewards him for it by smashing his head into the ice and finally delivering that kiss that was decades overdue. The crowd screams in excitement and shock but Viktor can’t hear anything. He can only hear Yuuri’s shock as his lips connect, and only see the blush as they come up for air.


	3. Chapter 3

“So I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Viktor says as they open their hotel room. The ringing in his ears from the uproar that was cameras in their face and Yuuri placing second and getting a Gold Medal wore them both down. Yuuri’s adrenaline high is crashing. He hasn’t slept. He’s cried today. He’s performed a quad that he hadn’t committed to until he’d started his routine.

“Do you mind if I nap first?” Yuuri asks, and yawns before kicking off his shoes and faceplanting into the bed. Viktor scolds him to remove his contact lenses before falling asleep and Yuuri does with such imprecision Viktor worried about him scratching his corneas.

Viktor gives him the one hour and forty seven minutes he’s fast asleep. He sits on the couch and spends time watching Yuuri. Responding to frantic texts. A bunch of “it’s about time.” One “you’re disgusting” from Yuri, who followed up with “the ice is sacred I don’t need you making out all over it.” And he thinks. And thinks. About what this means for them now. He hasn’t come up with an answer though. He’d spent so long thinking about kissing Yuuri that he hadn’t really figured out Part Two.

Yuuri begins to stir and Viktor gently wakes him up. Groggily, Yuuri rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on. Viktor set a bottle of water beside him and gently told him to drink up.

They worked a little in silence to pack up their suitcases and get ready to leave tomorrow. It seemed like Yuuri was purposefully avoiding his phone. Viktor picked it up and saw countless messages clogging the screen. “Do you need me to work through this for you?”

Yuuri nodded, unlocking the phone, and continuing to work in silence. Once before, Viktor had taken it upon himself to destress Yuuri by doing a notification cleanse. Just the important ones from family and friends remained. His barely used Instagram was blowing up. Viktor silenced those notifications. He knew it was overwhelming at the best of times. Viktor found it overwhelming and he was used to media attention.

“Hey Viktor,” Yuuri muttered eventually.

“Hm?”

“How much does an elephant weigh?”

“Enough to break the ice,” Viktor said with a grin, picking Yuuri up from the floor and sitting him on the bed. He sat beside him, slightly closer than normal but with a tiny bit of distance, letting Yuuri know either was okay.

“Sooooo,” Yuuri doesn’t seem to know what to say for a start. “Do you want to explain yourself?”

“I, ah,” Viktor cleared his throat. “I’m proud of you?”

“Would you kiss all of your students like that?” Yuuri accused, poking Viktor in the chest playfully who blushed furiously.

“Only ones who should be so lucky to captivate me like you do.”

That seems to be enough before Viktor is pushed onto the bed and Yuuri’s straddling him and he’s messily got his lips all over Viktor’s like he’s been touch-starved for years and the only cure is somewhere inside Viktor’s mouth. They’re panting. They’re making out. They’re coming up for air to kiss again. They kiss for a long time. Both of them are exhausted and know they’ve got a plane to catch in the morning. But that doesn’t stop them from making out. Taking all the kisses they were meant to have up until now.

“Viktorrr,” Yuuri purrs, pushing him away after a while, feeling decidedly hot and bothered. Viktor looks like a made-out mess and Yuuri’s pretty sure if it wasn’t immediately post-competition, they’d be naked. But now’s not the right time. “That’s hardly talking, you know.”

“ _You_ ,” Viktor whined back, “kissed _me_!”

And they laughed again.

Yuuri and Viktor dance around the question of “what does this make us” for a long time. They talk about being alright with just kissing for now even though both of their bodies scream the opposite. It’s a huge deal.

Viktor’s lying back against the headboard post-shower, and Yuuri’s doing some post-competition stretches. They talk for a while about their dating history.

Yuuri’s forthcoming with his experiences. Opposite to what he’d been at the beach a few months back where he’d clammed up. Yuko and Yuuri kissed, Viktor knew that much. It was weird, like kissing his sister in the end. Yuuri’s had a girlfriend before who went to high school in Fukuoka and trained at the same rink as him. It’d been ongoing for about six months and seemed like it could have been serious. But he quickly cut that short when Yuko ended up accidentally pregnant and the possibility of Yuuri messing up and getting a girl pregnant while he had his whole future laid out for years to come stopped them from going much further than hands down each other’s pants. She understood the concern and had been fretting just the same. Even now, they still write Happy Birthday messages online and are happy to catch up over an infrequent cup of coffee.

Yuuri’s kissed a boy before too in his first year at University. A little bit of tongue. He thought it might get a little more serious than that. Then the boy had said somewhere down the grapevine about using Yuuri, who was Asian and “effeminate” in his words to experiment. Yuuri hadn’t bothered with trying a relationship since. It’d taken a knock to his self-confidence. Still, Yuuri was mildly out of the closet with people that needed to know.

He’d never had the conversation with his mother. He hadn’t needed to. Viktor had been his first crush, and the only longstanding one all the same. He’d suspected that Hiroko was more surprised that Yuuri was still dating girls all the same.

Viktor admitted during his younger years, before he’d won his first gold medal but after he’d debuted that he’d gotten a few blowjobs from girls who swooned over him and made him feel like a God. He’d reciprocated once with some alcohol in his system, he thought it’d be rude not to after she’d done such a good job and she was wonderful about it and didn’t expect more. At that point, he still didn’t really have an answer for why he was feeling so weird about it. Sex was meant to be interesting. All his friends talked about the girls they were with and how sex was cool. Viktor at times wished he were the girl they were with so he could understand why it was meant to be fun. From there, it started to piece together. It was hard growing up in Russia. Homophobia was everywhere. Hardly any education about being rainbow. It was actually Yakov that gruffly and embarrassingly slid a pamphlet under his door when he was staying with them between moving to St. Petersburg and buying his apartment.

Despite the image, Viktor hadn’t worked his way up to sex. Not long after that he’d met Kira Popov, who latched onto him like they were magnetic. She got drunk and told him she wasn’t into men. He too, while drunk, said he thought he might be only into men. They let the media run wild with the idea that they were together. “And that brings us to Hasetsu, pretty much.”

It was getting late as they wound down their conversation. Viktor stripped down to black boxers and Yuuri had on flannel pyjama pants. They slept facing each other after a few soft kisses on the lips. Yuuri fell asleep quickly as they held hands. Whatever happened next, they’d be together.

-

Viktor and Yuuri took a direct flight to get to St. Petersburg. They acted like they hadn’t spent all night baring their souls and sucking face. Viktor had murmured again on the plane about being prepared for homophobia upon landing on Russian soil and Yuuri felt nauseous the second the plane wheels hit the tarmac.

Viktor pulled their hoods up once they’d collected their baggage in the international terminal. Both wearing nondescript hoodies and Yuuri wearing a black face mask. Paparazzi were at the airport yelling obnoxious questions after them about the nature of their relationship. Not understanding Russian, Yuuri could pretend not to understand anything going on around him and just follow Viktor’s lead to a taxi bay in front of the arrivals gate.

From the airport, it was a thirty-five-minute drive to Viktor’s apartment. Yuuri is glued to the window. He’s been to Sochi before, but the weather was still mild enough because it’s much further south to see the beautiful beaches. He didn’t get to enjoy Russia much last time because that’s where he bombed in the Grand Prix Final. St. Petersburg is much different. The city is blanketed in thick snow. Viktor mutters that it won’t get much over 3 degrees every day if they’re lucky. Yuuri’s got a few scarves in his bag but Viktor tells him to not worry because he’s got a wardrobe full.

Yuuri believes him.

Yuuri recognises the couch in the living room from the time Viktor interviewed at home with a popular lifestyle magazine. He doesn’t say that to Viktor. The air is stale since Viktor hasn’t been back in months. Viktor apologises and cracks some windows for a while until it’s too cold inside and he turns on the heat pump. The rest of his apartment is a nice surprise. Two bedrooms, but the second has been relatively converted into an office with a chair that can pull out to a sofa. Viktor’s got an impressive wardrobe that takes up an entire wall in his bedroom and a second walk in closet beside his bathroom too. There’s a few exercise machines in the apartment because the Russian winters are bitter, but Viktor needs to keep in shape. He tells Yuuri he’s welcome to use them tomorrow instead of running outside.

Viktor doesn’t have much on display that indicates he’s an Olympian. The worlds’ best skater. Yuuri wanted to ask but decided against it as Viktor plays ever the tender housekeeper, dusting a few surfaces and fussing about Yuuri’s luggage. He offers Yuuri the second bedroom knowing that he’s going to say yes to sleeping together anyway.

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls through to the kitchen as he’s putting a load of washing on. “Make yourself comfortable darling.” He finds Yuuri sitting on the edge of the couch playing with his hair.

“Your place is beautiful,” Yuuri exclaims and Viktor just laughs.

“Not as beautiful as Hasetsu, Yuuri. And twice as beautiful with you here.”

Yuuri’s face grows crimson. He clutches his cheeks with his hands.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, does this make us boyfriends?” Viktor asks directly.

“I…uh!” Yuuri’s surprised.

“If that’s okay with you, I’d like to be boyfriends,” Viktor puts his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulls him into a sideways hug.

“Yeah, Viktor, I’d like that.”

“Call me _Vitya_ , darling.”

“V… _vitya_. My boyfriend _Vitya_. My boyfriend Viktor Nikiforov. I get to call him _Vitya_.” The way the name bounced in accented Japanese was adorable. Viktor felt his smile creep into a grin.

“My boyfriend Yuuri Katsuki. My sweet, sweet darling sunshine Yuuri Katsuki.”

It’s cheesy, and they giggle before sharing a slow and soft kiss. Yuuri’s stomach rumbles interrupting.

“Oh honey,” Viktor chides. “We need to get us some food. I know a place, I’m on it.” Grabbing his keys and stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, Viktor hangs in the doorway to take a mental image of Yuuri sitting on his couch smiling back. “Relax. You don’t have to sit so stiffly. My home is your home too.”

-

The tabloids are surprisingly quiet considering the huge news that their biggest sports star is gay-gay and not just possibly-gay, and on home turf this week. The articles that are published though are wholly negative. Viktor knew what was coming when they came home. The voices of opposition shouted the loudest. Yuri had messaged him telling him to not bother with any of it. It was all garbage. “ _Just like that kiss on the ice. I’m still disgusted. Keep it in the bedroom. Or don’t. I don’t want to know. Don’t text me_.” Viktor laughed to himself reading the message while out at the supermarket the next morning. He’d left a jet lagged Yuuri in bed. Not one for mornings, Viktor had learned, but especially after competitions.

And if to not just add a competition into the mix, but a new relationship.

He saw magazines in stands on his walk home and none had his face on the cover. The ice crunched under his holographic Doc Martens, which were his first official coming out rainbow-themed anything he’d ever bought online (the cufflinks were a gift from Chris from way back when, and Viktor couldn’t think of it as anything but foreshadowing afterwards). Viktor appreciated the familiar walk. He was relieved to see the Tuesday morning market in the square still running. Hot chocolates and coffees being served beside Russian delicacies and fresh fruit and vegetables from the area. A line of Russian’s talking away with thick gloves and thicker scarves as their only insulation from the bitter 1 degree cold.

By the time Viktor was home, Yuuri was up, wearing a blue hoodie and thick pyjama pants. Viktor had ordered him a fluffy pair of poodle slippers too, and Yuuri had happily donned them to finish up the most domestic of looks yet.

Viktor didn’t want to say anything to embarrass Yuuri, but it was the most blissful he’d ever felt. Everything connected like putting the last pieces into the puzzle. It wasn’t going to be easy framing it once it was complete, but he would move gently at Yuuri’s pace.

He didn’t think it would take as long as the first part of their relationship. He hoped not. But he also had no idea what he was getting himself into either, so.

So…

-

Tomorrow morning they will head to Moscow to compete in the Rostelecom Cup. The snow falls quickly outside and keeps them apartment bound for the meantime.

Viktor was busy catching up on life stuff, coach stuff, sponsorship stuff on behalf of Yuuri. Yuuri spent the day doing light exercise; he spent an hour running on a treadmill, and another hour later in the day dragging out Viktor’s yoga mat and doing some videos on his playlist.

One of the things Yuuri didn’t know about Viktor was that he _enjoyed_ cooking and helping out in Hasetsu wasn’t just to impress his parents. Viktor seemed to be relatively all over the kitchen stuff, but he whistled while he worked and created a beautiful salad, with protein while wearing a light blue apron. Yuuri hated the dancer diet, but Viktor was certainly making it more interesting.

“This is delicious, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri complimented, knowing that using Viktor’s nickname would add an extra layer of beaming on his face.

“Really??” Viktor’s eyes sparkled with joy. “Oh shoslen, I want to cook for you forever!”

“I’ll do the dishes,” Yuuri offered once they’d finished their mean and Viktor swats him away.

The late afternoon melted into evening watching a movie and cuddling on the bed. It was heavenly to snuggle in the pillow fort with a soft faux mink blanket wrapped around their shoulders and hot chocolates in their hands. Yuuri didn’t pay as much attention to the movie as he should of. He was too busy playing a bunch of scenarios in his head that would certainly get him in trouble. For instance, making out with Viktor.

So, he decides to do just that. As the credits roll, Yuuri pulls Viktor’s face towards him and plants an open-lipped kiss on his lips. Viktor is more than happy to respond and spend the evening kissing and sighing into each other’s mouths as their hips bucked and grinded against each other and caused so much friction. It was Yuuri who pulled away. A dangerous look in his eyes. They’re both incredibly horny and Yuuri’s not going to let that chance get away from him for another week.

Before Viktor’s got a chance to catch his breath Yuuri’s hands are unbuttoning his jeans and rubbing the taut fabric. Feeling the heat radiating through the thin cotton layer. Reaching his hands under and grabbing it firmly in his fist. Marvelling at the purpling tip smeared in precum. Pumping it up and down until there’s so much precum it’s pooling in the folds of the foreskin and Yuuri’s bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste him. Yuuri’s not sure if he’s going to cum in his pants from doing this but Viktor’s head is thrown back into the pillow and moaning deep as Yuuri swipes his finger over the slit that keeps on giving. And without warning, Yuuri’s mouth is around the entire length. He’s not done this before, but it’s hot having Viktor in his mouth pushing against his cheeks with every bob, coating his mouth. Using his tongue to massage the length. Yuuri knows he’s got a good gag reflex. He’s enjoying himself and the way Viktor’s swearing between his moans. “Fuck, Yuuri. Fuuuuck. Yesssss.” Some moans in Russian as his breath quickens. Even with tentatively four languages under his belt, Viktor can’t vocallise what’s about to happen. Though Yuuri feels the way his testicles tighten under his grip and begins to send shockwaves through Viktor’s cock until he’s cumming violently in Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri drinks it all up. He brings himself to look at Viktor whose face is a mess with hair splayed everywhere and cheeks crimson. Yuuri holds his breath, taking in the image. Everything else in his wank bank? Gone. Just images of his _boyfriend_ panting and moaning underneath him.

“Yuu-ri,” Viktor’s breath catching in his throat. He notes the deep breathing and the way Yuuri’s black jeans are so tight he looks like he’s going to bust a zip open. Knowing it’s only fair, Viktor picks Yuuri up and repositions them so he’s got access to reciprocate.

Viktor’s never done this before, but neither had Yuuri. And yet it felt that good. Popping the button on the jeans and pulling down the fly and his underwear to his knees, Viktor marvelled at the beauty. Yuuri moans at Viktor’s featherlight touches, before he digs his fingers into the skin around the base of the penis which is strained with veins thick of blood. Yuuri manages to squeeze out an “I’m already really close, _Vitya_ ,” which feels so much more intimate because Yuuri’s only started calling Viktor by his pet name this week. It feels sexy when Yuuri says it with a rough voice and sweet when he says it while cuddling. Yuuri shudders under the few pumps that Viktor gives him before Viktor’s lips are around the head and licking the salt away. It doesn’t really taste how Viktor would expect but it’s not bad. Surely he’d get used to the taste. As it was just a small price to pay for the way Yuuri is vocally moaning and writhing under him.

“ _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri pants. “ _I’m going to come_.”

Viktor doesn’t stop until Yuuri is filling his mouth in hot spurts and he closes his eyes and wills himself to swallow it. It’s not that it tastes bad, it’s just that it’s warm and a little bit weird.

But it feels so much different to that time with that girl, Viktor confirms to himself. And he felt like he wanted to do it again. This, and so much more.

Climbing up beside Yuuri, Viktor cuddled into his side for a while. Eventually their clothes scattered on the floor and they climbed under the covers for a nap while they held hands, and everything felt perfect.

-

Viktor’s frantically getting himself back to Hasetsu, where Makkachin is recovering just fine after gulping down pork buns without chewing. Blubbering like a baby when he swings open the doors to Yu-topia, Mari leads him down the hall to Yuuri’s room, where Makkachin has decided to make her home permanently.

Viktor feels a little snobbed that she’s chosen Yuuri over him. But he laughs at himself for being so petty. Makkachin is drowsy and wearing one of those cones but she’s not awake enough to argue about it.

“You’re such a silly goose!” Viktor exclaims, scratching her ears and letting her sleep once he’s gotten enough of watching her.

Toshiya Katsuki slaps an arm around Viktor and calls cheers to a drink. Despite speaking no English and a heavy Hakata dialect, Viktor understands that Toshiya says “welcome home,” and something along the lines of “I’m glad you’re making Yuuri happy.” Viktor can drink to that.

It was Mari that inevitably gave Viktor the levelled-up shovel talk now that they were alone.

It takes three days for Yuuri to get back to Hasetsu after Viktor arrives. The flight from Moscow is long and layovers take time, and that’s discounting all the extra interviews Yuuri’s been subjected to because thank god he’s made it through to the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona by the skin of his teeth.

Mari translates some of the video interviews for Viktor in the meantime. Viktor nearly chokes on his toast when Mari tells him Yuuri’s talking about loving Viktor so much he had to let him go back to Hasetsu. They talk about Vicchan, Yuuri’s poodle, and how his passing threw Yuuri for such a loop that he’d ruined his last Grand Prix Final with sadness and anxiety.

In another video, Yuuri admits that Viktor and him were more than just Coach and Student now. “It works well for us. He’s good at distinguishing the two. I probably need someone who cares about me twenty-four-seven while I work through some personal things.”

Viktor’s heart is doing somersaults.

Celestino congratulates Yuuri publicly from Detroit. “I’m proud of him. I’m hoping that he’ll get a chance to show his talent for real in Barcelona.” Phichit breaks into frame adding “I can’t wait to skate with my best friend! Watch out everyone! Cheer for both of us!”

When Yuuri said this season was about love, maybe he didn’t realise how many people openly loved and supported him.

Of course there was negativity too. There was always bound to be. Viktor had spent a year building up his resilience to being called slurs in three languages. If there was one thing going for Japan, it’s that people didn’t at least care enough to his face. Mari emphasised that the islands tended to be cooler with it overall too. Fukuoka was a hip city with a thriving community, and it wasn’t too odd to travel an hour and see people with colourful hair and piercings and tattoos out on display.

Without knowing it, Yuuri Katsuki had ended up the poster child for a Rainbow charity in Japan. It wasn’t long before they’d gotten in touch once he’d arrived to set up an interview and photoshoot. Viktor had fielded the calls with Mari as translator, after checking with Yuuri that it would be alright. He hesitantly agreed. Viktor got in touch with Yuuri’s sportwear sponsor, _Mizuno_ , and asked if they wouldn’t mind being associated with the image. They got back to him quickly, saying that was more than alright.

Viktor lamented how he wished he could have even this level of freedom. Even though Japan was still behind in their rainbow rights, they were decades ahead of Russia.

The slogan was “ _the theme is love, this season, every season_ ” playing on Yuuri’s own Ice-Skating theme. Photos were taken all around Hasetsu. With permission from Hiroko, the camera crew were allowed in the onsen for some photos of the pair. Viktor hadn’t realised what he’d gotten himself into, but the shots were stunning with the water and nature obscuring anything lewd. Despite being naked, they looked so in love and it was tender. Viktor got personal copies of all the images that weren’t used.

God they looked incredible together.

When Hiroko had an uptick of customers and booked out rooms in Yu-topia following the release, she thanked Viktor with tears streaming down her face.

But that was just a blip in the radar that was the month running into the Barcelonan Grand Prix Final. Yuuri was working harder, eating healthier, staying hydrated, and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Yuuri and Viktor put a hold on exploring further the physical part of their relationship, settling happily for just kisses and cuddles.

That’s not to say they weren’t hungry for more. But they wanted to do it with an unclouded head and plenty of energy.

-

Viktor ignored the talk around them as they arrived in Barcelona about what a _statement_ their public coming out was. In the interview, Yuuri had labelled himself as bisexual. The reception was overall positive though.

He was waiting for the fallout. Isn’t that how it’s all meant to go? But thus far it hadn’t come.

Yuuri’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. Even meeting with Phichit doesn’t seem to settle him down. Despite that, Yuuri and Viktor happily explore Barcelona, choosing to not train at the rink the two nights before the competition. Yuuri’s doing yoga in the hotel room while Viktor catches up with Chris. When he arrives back at his room Yuuri’s fast asleep from jetlag.

Yuuri seems even more stressed out than usual but it’s not his competition-driven anxiety. He’s got an eye out like he’s taking everything in as they walk through the Christmas markets. Yuuri’s a little snappier, especially when he’s left behind this tiny bag of nuts. Viktor doesn’t care about the nuts. He just thinks Yuuri’s nuts today for being so highstrung. They haven’t had much of a chance to go on a date like this before, and Viktor’s hoping that the three-month break between skating seasons might lend them a chance to have a nice holiday.

They’re standing in a jewellery shop and Yuuri’s paying a stupid amount of money for a gold band. It hits Viktor like a freight train what’s been going through Yuuri’s mind but he plays dumb and distracted in the shop. He hands over his own card when Yuuri’s not watching to another staff member, who slyly packages up a ring that’s exactly the same. Viktor’s glad the second staff member speaks French as indicated on his nametag, and they can chat without Yuuri understanding. He pretends that he’s just looking at pendants to give to Kira for Christmas. He adds one of those on the bill too and walks out with his own wee gift bag. Yuuri is none the wiser.

The shock on Yuuri’s face when Viktor puts a matching ring on his right hand is worth every Euro, and many, many more. They don’t say the words _engagement_ or _marriage_ , but it’s heavily implied.

Nobody can stop talking about it over dinner or afterwards.

Yuuri and Viktor head to bed and cuddle with rings melded to their fingers. It’s the best sleep Yuuri has had in years. Whatever happens from here, Viktor knows it was all worth it. All worth it.

-

Yuuri is furious that touching the ice cost him the Gold Medal, but that’s overshadowed by the fact he’s got the Free Skate World Record. World Record. Yuuri Katsuki, whose super score is now but second in the world to his own _fiancé holds a world record_.

_Next time_ , Yuuri promises, it’ll be the two Yuri’s and Viktor on the podium. It’s got to be. It’s the only appropriate ending for this fairytale.

They make an early escape after showing their face in the overwhelming kiss and cry. They just want to rest until lunchtime together before their press conferences which would take up the rest of tomorrow. The Banquet will close off the competition. Yuuri says he wants to remember it and that he doesn’t plan to drink a lot.

He wants to remember tonight too. Curled up against Viktor with the Silver Medal still around his neck. Viktor rubs in his face that he’s not kissing a silver medal, but he’s happy to kiss other parts of Yuuri instead to make do until Yuuri brings home his aforementioned Gold.

Viktor’s massaging Yuuri’s leg muscles after he’s had a shower and come back to bed. Sprawled out with his face in the pillow. Viktor’s telling Yuuri he’s more than just proud of him. Viktor works his hands into Yuuri’s shoulders next, against Yuuri’s complaining about them being stiff and sore. He soon relaxes though and said it feels good, but the way he says it feels _good_ doesn’t feel too dissimilar to the way he moaned Viktor’s name while he’d given him a blowjob.

Viktor’s getting ideas now and Yuuri doesn’t seem too sleepy yet. So his hands move down towards Yuuri’s hips and he asks “is it alright if I touch you a bit?” Yuuri agrees, not quite sure what Viktor means until Viktor’s hands are massaging his butt through the navy boxer shorts. Yuuri’s relaxed for the first little while until Viktor’s hands get a little rougher and he lays down beside Yuuri and ghosts his kisses over Yuuri’s neck, which he’s learned are one of Yuuri’s most sensitive spots. Then they’re making out and Yuuri’s pushed Viktor against the headboard and is straddling him and kissing him so he can’t escape. Yuuri can feel Viktor’s erection digging into his own and white light flashes behind his eyes just from the brushing through the cotton. Viktor moans into Yuuri’s mouth and pushes Yuuri forcefully down on the bed to climb on top of him and pull of his own shirt before kissing down Yuuri’s neck and between his pecs, his bellybutton, around his hipbones, and down the V that points into Yuuri’s underwear.

They haven’t talked about the details of this part, but Viktor’s decided that somebody’s fucking somebody tonight and he doesn’t care which way. Apparently Yuuri’s decided the same because magically there’s some lube in the mix from the bedside table on his side and Yuuri’s tugging at Viktor’s boxers so their cocks can rub together skin on skin. Yuuri’s completely naked too. And fucking gorgeous. It’s the first time he’s been completely naked in front of Viktor outside of the hot spring and Viktor had done his best to have self-control to look away back then.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Yuuri says, but Viktor doesn’t really either and they go back to making out with hands grabbing and pulling and squeezing. There’s a moment of realisation between kisses that this is the biggest moment of their relationship yet.

“Well, my darling World Record Holder,” Viktor purred, “it’s really up to you. It’s your night after all.”

Yuuri’s eyes turn dark and he coats his own fingers in lube. Pushing Viktor back down on the bed he starts exploring the tight puckered hole hidden by light silver fluff and heavy testicles. Just the fingertip, to see how it feels. Viktor mewls in appreciation and then frustration when Yuuri is being too slow. Yuuri’s feeling the blood thumping through his own cock urging him to go quicker but Yuuri’s thoughtful and wants to make sure Viktor is truly ready. A third and fourth finger have stretched Viktor and Viktor’s stomach is painted with translucent precum. Yuuri starts to pump Viktor which makes him squirm and Yuuri’s enjoying having the power. He could do anything right now. But the most inviting option is coming inside Viktor, whose blush stands out against his milky skin.

Yuuri goes to unwrap a condom and Viktor grabs his hand. “I don’t mind either way, but I’m clean. I got a test a while ago.”

Yuuri breaths a sigh of relief. He probably should have checked back when he’d sucked Viktor off but they were both new to sex. “I got checked in Hasetsu too.” Viktor reaches up to Yuuri’s face and gives him a kiss on the lips. “Can I?” he asks, grabbing the lube and drizzling it on Yuuri’s cock, pumping his fist up and down until it was slick. Yuuri swears in English. There’s something about a plosive “fuck” that beats almost every other curse in every other language. And then Viktor’s body sucks him in and he feels like he might orgasm right then. Viktor’s warm under him and Yuuri takes time to stare at Viktor in his eyes and smile. A low “ _Vitya_ ,” escapes Yuuri’s lips before he’s rocking between Viktor’s thighs. They’re kissing messily while they’re fucking, and Viktor says the words “you’re beautiful” as shockwaves roll through his body when Yuuri hits his prostate. The throbbing of Viktor clenches around Yuuri who swears again. Sweat beads on his temple.

Yuuri’s gracelessly reaching between them to pump Viktor’s cock while he’s thrusting and he’s only coming up for air from Viktor’s lips to moan and breath and he’s moaning against Viktor’s mouth and it’s vibrating Viktor’s lips. A sensory overload.

“I’m so close,” Viktor moans before he sees stars as Yuuri hits his prostate just right and he comes violently between them. Shudders catch Yuuri’s own cock and he’s coming too, inside Viktor. He never wants this feeling to stop, but now he’s relaxing against their sticky, messy bodies and he needs to roll carefully out of Viktor to unceremoniously take a second shower.

This time, the shower is with Viktor, and they’re still kissing against the shower wall but these kisses have reverted back to sweet and loving.

When Yuuri’s not watching, Viktor pinches himself to make sure this is still real.

-

Something about Viktor has changed. It finally seems to the media like his fire has been reignited – and don’t get him wrong, it has – but he’s also much more willing to show his affection to Yuuri in public today.

Yuuri asks him if he’s okay and Viktor responds with “I just want to let the world know how much I love you,” to which Yuuri giggles “I’m sure they already know. More than know.” It’s the first time Viktor’s said those three words in a row and it makes Yuuri feel like a teenager. He’s hoping to get them from Viktor in a quiet place soon. Maybe he’ll say them first if he’s brave.

They’re holding hands in their press conferences for the most part when they’re in English because the Western audience has wholly bought into their power couple stance. Sometimes Yuuri and Viktor are whisked away to do interviews in their own respective languages though. The Japanese audience is wholly positive, but wanting to eagerly know whether Yuuri will stay in Hasetsu, or whether he’ll move to St. Petersburg, or a third place entirely. Yuuri blushes at the idea of _moving in_ with Viktor, and says he can’t answer for now but since Viktor’s in talks with how it’ll work with Yakov, he’ll probably spend more time in Russia than Hasetsu.

Viktor’s the complete opposite in his Russian and French interviews, gushing about how he can’t wait for Yuuri to be a part of his St. Petersburg family with Makkachin and all of his friends. He says he’s going to get Yuuri a Russian Language teacher.

The Russian media are a lot more direct with how they fire questions about being engaged but unable to get married. They spit about sponsorships dropping Viktor like they agree with the stance. It’s their tone that causes Viktor to go dark for a moment while talking about homophobia in Russia. How he’s disgusted that they have to worry about it. Tells them he’ll cut a bitch if they mess with his happiness. Gets angry that sponsors give so much of a shit about how he’s kissing someone who’s a consenting, legal adult.

It’s the first time Viktor’s said anything. But god if he hasn’t ripped the bandaid right off.

The quotes blasted over the internet are taken completely out of context.

He’s tagged on Instagram with posts telling him and his “queer” to stay the fuck out of Russia. He’s called an embarrassment to the country. Sponsors Viktor had for years come out to publicly cancel their relationship with him.

None of that matters to Viktor because he’s happy but it still hurts to see people who used to be fans flip so quickly to despising him.

Viktor wished he could have been born straight for but a moment. He wishes he could explain it in a way that would make them understand. But it’s been said a thousand times. You don’t choose who you love. It just happens. And Yuuri is the most beautiful human in the world.

The surprising thing is Yuuri seems to be mad at him too once they land in Russia and Yuuri finds out about all the backlash once he’s settled into the mildly familiar apartment. They’re heading back to Hasetsu soon to pack up Yuuri’s skating things after he’s competed in the Japanese Nationals. On the way back to Russia they’ll collect Makkachin and say “see you later” to his family. But maybe those plans have come too soon.

“Do not,” Yuuri hisses as he points at an article on Viktor’s computer, “say things like that without telling me! This is meant to be a happy time!”

Viktor is shocked as he sees a vein pop out of Yuuri’s forehead. He’s been angry before which was a precursor for tears, but this time Yuuri’s hands are in a ball. It’s definitely a mess of an article that’s taken Viktor’s quotes about his sponsors and stuck them beside talking about Yuuri to make it seem like it’s worse than it is.

“I’m not,” Viktor starts but cuts himself off. Yuuri doesn’t want to hear an excuse about things being lost in media and translation. Plus Viktor feels like he’s in the right and it’s a lesson Yuuri’s going to need to learn. “I’m sorry. I need to stand up for myself too. I’ve been subjected to this fear of sticking up for myself for years.”

“In return,” Yuuri spat, “I stood by your side last year and took the criticism that I’d ruined your skating career. That this _stupid_ Japanese man didn’t know which leagues he was playing in. That he was fucking around with the wrong person. I never told you I was weathering that storm too because it seemed insignificant aside what you have been through. But Viktor, it kills me that you didn’t talk to me about how to handle our relationship and decided your course of action was the best. It’s always the right one. I’ll always be second to you, Viktor. I’ll always be second to your decisions.”

Viktor. Not _Vitya_. Viktor.

“I see,” Viktor pursed his lips together and grabbed his cellphone and wallet. He walked out of the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

And drank and cried and drank some more at Kira’s house until he blacked out.

Kira held her arm around him as he threw up in her toilet. She didn’t stop herself from chiding him gently along the way about cultural differences and relationship communication. But she knew it was much more complicated than she could give them credit for. After all, the girl she was dating under the radar wasn’t in the spotlight at all. Neither was she, of recent.

Still, Viktor’s like a stupid little brother, and he needs a bit of tough love.

-

Yuuri needs some tough love too.

Yuuri hears a bang on the door. Followed by constant banging until he opens up. Bags under his eyes from not sleeping at all, and even worse, not hearing from Viktor.

“You are not only a second-rate skater, but the worlds’ biggest idiot.” Yuri screamed, donned in a lot of animal print that would look tacky on anyone that wasn’t Yuri Plisetsky.

“You don’t say,” Yuuri held the door open and Yuri stormed in, kicking his shoes off violently.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, but lay it all down and I’ll tell you where you fucked up. That’s not to say Vit’ka is blameless.” It’s the first time Yuuri’s heard Yuri call Viktor by a nickname, and the understanding is that Yuri is mocking him right now.

Yuuri makes them both a hot chocolate and Yuri takes extra marshmallows. Once they’re settled at Viktor’s he makes a start on what happened.

“Your biggest fuck up was calling him Viktor.”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide.

“In Russian, if you start calling someone by their nickname, you’ve got to stick to it at home. You’ve just told him you don’t feel close to him at all.”

“Oh, _shit_. I _am_ an idiot.”

“ _Shit_ is right. I’m assuming he’s not picking up your calls?”

Yuuri shook his head, not wanting to admit he’d left twenty-seven voicemails and sent a hundred texts telling him to come home.

“Well, luckily for you, I know where he is and he’s safe. Safe and hungover as fuck, but safe. He’s with Kira. I’m guessing you haven’t met her yet but maybe you want to give that a moment before she too rakes you over the coals for being a dumbass.” Yuri smirked. “She’s raked him over the coals for being a dumbass. You two are perfect for each other.” Yuri dials the number and speaks crudely in Russian on the phone. “She says he gave her a thumbs up when she said you admitted you’re an idiot. He’ll be home later. My time is up here. Thanks for the hot chocolate, I guess.”

Like a typhoon, as quick as he stormed in, he’s gone again, leaving Yuuri to clean up the path of destruction. He shouts a thankyou out the door. Yuri flips him the bird. They’re cool.

-

Viktor is back with his tail between his legs and his headache still pounding. Viktor, one who can control his liquor, was getting incredible payback today for overreacting.

“Vic- _vitya_ ,” Yuuri corrected himself as Viktor shut the door quietly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m glad to be home,” Viktor grabbed Yuuri by his waist and lay his head on his shoulder and began to cry. Yuuri cried too. They relocated their crying to the couch, where Yuuri held Viktor and let him cry for a long time. They don’t talk about it for the rest of the evening and eat pizza that Viktor orders while watching trashy reality TV.

“I love you, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri gently reminded, gliding his fingers through Viktor’s hair.

“I love you, _Yuuki_.” It’s not a Russian nickname that Viktor’s decided on after all. He’d looked at Yuuri in his sleep and thought about the different possibilities and even used a Japanese dictionary to see if there are any similarities. But he’d settled on the word _Yuuki_ , in Japanese meaning courageous. Maybe even the word _Yukai_ , which loosely translates to cheerful for the days where he’s beaming with sunshine.

“I like that,” Yuuri breathes. “Are there any other nicknames you’d like me to use?”

“ _Vitenka_ for when we’re at home like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, _moye solntse_.” Yuuri has learned this means “my sunshine” and he feels all warm. “ _Vitya_ is alright anytime, like when we’re out of the house. Viktor when we have to be formal. But _Vitenka_ is all for you.”

“ _Vitenka_ ,” Yuuri purrs into his ear. He likes the way Russian words play on his lips. “ _Moye solnste_.”

“I can’t wait to teach you Russian. I can’t wait to show you my culture the way you showed me yours, _koibito_.” _Sweetheart_.

-

They sleep deep and late, wrapped tightly against each other’s body. Their argument two days ago seems to have brought them closer, and now they’re willing to talk calmly about why.

Yuuri, for one, is already overwhelmed with leaving his family and the Onsen again. That paired with Russia’s lack of English everywhere causes him to feel tense when stepping outside the apartment. Even in Japan, where they can’t speak English well, there’s a lot of signage everywhere, or at least in the big cities. Yuuri feels uncomfortable with the idea that he can hardly cope without Viktor playing translator. St. Petersburg have little pockets of it and it seems to be increasing but it’s still going to be a point of contention this year.

That, paired with the intensity of Viktor’s fans and their relationship’s foes, caused Yuuri to feel like he was suffocating. Yuuri’s read stories that have scared him about rabid fans and homophobes, and it makes him feel like he’s got to watch over his shoulder in a country he doesn’t know. He already stands out. He’s Japanese. He’s a famous athlete. The target on his back is painted in glow-in-the-dark paint.

Viktor reassures him that they’ll be alright. If they ever feel in danger they’ll leave without a second thought. But the most that will happen in a city like St. Petersburg will be comments on the internet, and maybe some graffiti on the rink they skate at if someone cares that much.

They talked at length about the importance of names in Russian culture. Much like using honorifics in Japanese, but even more so, it signified how someone was feeling about them right now. Viktor realises he hadn’t had that kind of talk with Yuuri.

They know their intentions are nothing but with love and pride in each other. But things may translate badly. If they can be mindful of that while talking about each other in the public eye then they’ll be alright.

There’s still a lot Yuuri wants to talk about. Especially after exchanging rings. Yuuri had never really meant to propose, but it came off like that and he was okay with it being an engagement. It sat well with him. But he asks if they can’t leave further conversation until after they’ve gotten up, had a shower, had breakfast and he’s done his morning workout. He’ll be back on the ice soon; they land five days before the Japanese nationals and they’ll get some ice time in then. But today he’s resting his body and getting ready for an emotionally heavy flight to Hasetsu with Viktor to pick up Makkachin and say goodbye to his family. And inevitably finally have that engagement party with his family.

Engagement.

Wow.

Yuuri swoons to himself again that he’s _engaged_ to Viktor Nikiforov.

He enjoys his workout. Knowing that he’s keeping in shape not just for himself but so Viktor can enjoy him too.

“One thing before we pack up your life in Hasetsu,” Viktor mentions softly over lunch. “You need to meet Kira.”

“Oh?” Yuuri asks.

“If you don’t mind meeting her this afternoon, that would work. Otherwise we can wait.”

Yuuri feels like this is probably one of the plasters he needs to rip off the quickest. Yuuri’s not insecure, but to live up to the woman who’s been by Viktor’s side for a few years through his darkest moments is nerve-wracking. She meets them at a coffee shop a few blocks away. It’s Italian, and the coffee is delicious. Yuuri doesn’t normally drink coffee past midday but the jetlag will ruin him tomorrow anyway.

Kira’s exactly like he imagined in some ways. More beautiful in person, taller than the photos made out. She’s a tiny bit taller than Yuuri’s 173cm, but slightly less than Viktor’s 180. She’s got a slender dancer body and huge green eyes. An even bigger smile.

“Yuuri!” she squeezes him into a hug and kisses him on both cheeks. Then she hugs Viktor hello and sits opposite them looking them up and down eagerly. “It’s nice to finally meet the person who’s turned Vitya into a sappy mess.”

“Likewise,” Yuuri says, blushing. “I mean, uh, thank you for keeping him in check.”

“I’ll always keep his stupid ass in check.” They laugh together and that’s all Yuuri needs to know he can trust her. “But I know that’s your job now so just tell me if I’m overstepping.”

“Hey,” Viktor cuts their banter short, joking about how wounded he is that they’ve taken to ripping the shit out of him so quickly. He’s glad though. Accepting Yuuri was the biggest form of compliment.

After all, Kira was the closest thing to real family outside of the Russian Skating Federation family.

They sip their coffees and talk freely about St. Petersburg, and Kira recommends a wee Japanese place hidden down an alleyway that’s “as close to Japan as you’ll get without flying home” and Viktor eagerly agrees with her recommendation. “Your mothers’ cooking will always win out, but it’s a cheaper second place and a quicker trip than getting home.”

That’s right, Yuuri remembered. He’s owed a _Katsudon_ for being a winner.

Kira kisses Yuuri on the cheek again. “When you’re back for real, let’s trade more stories about Viktor’s past. I’m sure you’d like to know more about the things that didn’t make it online.”

“Such as?” Yuuri asks inquisitively.

“There’s a clip of a game show where V-”

“You keep your mouth to yourself Kira, or I’ll tell Yuuri about the _jalapenos_.”

They all giggle. It sounds like Kira and Yuuri need to have a few drinks with Viktor’s busy on the ice sometime.

Yuuri decides he likes Kira and confirms as much when they’re walking home. Viktor beams with happiness. But Yuuri’s aware that she’s got the same tendencies at Yuri Plisetsky. She too would quite happily cut a bitch on behalf of Viktor too.


	4. Chapter 4

The term “arm candy” feels ironic since, despite Viktor’s bank account; Yuuri’s got the higher income right now. But there sure are perks to being Viktor Nikiforov’s “arm candy.” For one, Viktor, quite vocally, doesn’t want to fly economy. So, they’re sitting together in first class with the armrest up. Yuuri’s got a sponsorship with _ANA_ , and he’s never used it for more than economy before. He still feels embarrassed. Growing up poor, Yuuri’s always valued money. Valued second-hand clothes. Never spent extravagantly. The only real sponsorship perks he actively ‘took advantage of’ were his sportswear ones because tracksuits and training gear racked up in price.

Yuuri assumes Viktor will be picking up plenty of sponsorships now that he’s announced his return ever so grandly – maybe not his old companies, but it’s the 2010’s and heaps of international brands are marketing themselves as pride-friendly. Maybe for one month a year, but it’s sure a hell of a start. Yuuri holds that to his heart.

Any doubts Yuuri had about making the wrong decision moving to St. Petersburg full-time were negated by Viktor cuddling in close. Running his fingers softly through his hair in tiny circles and whispering into his ear that he loved him.

It’s nerve-wracking. Going back to Hasetsu to talk about their engagement. Yuuri hadn’t quite intended for it to come off as an engagement at all, but when Viktor pulled out his own ring and everyone assumed that was the case it didn’t feel wrong at all. Viktor seemed ecstatic. So, it’s easier to just run, or rather, skate with it.

The twenty-eight-year-old Russian intended to _marry_ Yuuri Katsuki. That made his head spin then and it’s still doing salchow’s now. His heart is doing quad-flips.

“ _Yuuki_ baby,” Viktor murmurs against his neck. “Let’s get a double helping of Katsudon before we leave. When you win Japan Nationals, you can even have a third.”

Yuuri giggled softly. “Alright, I’m happy to take you up on that offer, _Vitenka_.” He felt Viktor physically react to that when he snuggled in closer, falling asleep in Yuuri’s arms again with soft, shallow breathing.

Yuuri eventually fell asleep on the flight for a few hours too. It wasn’t a deep sleep. Yuuri walked through their timeline in his lucid dreams. From first skate, to his crush on Viktor, to Viktor’s seemingly sudden arrival in Hasetsu, to their first kiss, and everything that followed.

Yuuri had a fine childhood. He was happy. Anxious, but happy. There were small things that detracted from said happiness, like school bullies. Calling him a few playground slurs in the earlier years for being a dancer and a skater. But then Yuuri started competing and getting a few placements in regional and national competitions and the bullies shut up. He knows Yuuko has a lot to answer for behind the scenes too. After all, Takeshi Nishigori was one of the bullies that led the ring until he came for a skate one day too and realised it was just a different kind of magic to playing baseball or track and field. Yuuko being into skating brought Takeshi to the rink just to flirt with her. And look where they are now.

Yuuri always wondered whether he wanted children of his own, he liked children enough. The Nishigori triplets were a lot of fun. But the older he got the more he realised his anxiety wasn’t necessarily suited to it full-time. Yuuko was quite honest about the whole parenting process too. Maybe Yuuri could be a cool uncle or junior division coach. But that was a conversation him and Viktor needed to have before they got married. Among other things. Viktor had yet to bare a few of his oldest skeletons too. Not that Yuuri was worried. But seeing his parents with a strong marriage had at least instilled that communication and addressing issues before they became bigger was important.

Yuuri had a lot to learn but at least he had great role models.

The airline staff brought food around a little after they’d woken up from their nap. Viktor had requested they stick within certain food groups and they more than delivered – Yuuri was shocked at the sheer presentation of everything. Fruit with Greek yogurt, brown rice with vegetables presented beautifully and carrots cut into flowers, a medium steak. And it tasted better than it looked too – Yuuri swore if he got this at a restaurant it would easily be a hundred dollars or more.

“The real perk of first class,” Viktor murmured, “is they’ll bring meals when it suits you. So if you need to adjust to a timezone quickly, the best thing to do is eat at breakfast, lunch, dinner at the time where you’re going.” Viktor lazily ate his brown rice, in no rush to do anything except return to cuddling. “And, obviously, the best part of first class is being able to have privacy to hold your hand in peace.” Yuuri’s heart did those flips again hearing Viktor say such sweet but sappy things.

“I like this too,” Yuuri admits. Finishing his meal and calling to the flight attendants to clean up. Once they’re back in privacy they resumed cuddling while watching a movie. Viktor’s hair fell into his eyes and he looked up at Yuuri sweetly to get a kiss on the lips.

Yeah, Yuuri could get used to a lifetime of this.

-

Yuuri’s family is excited to see both of them, but Viktor’s the one accosted when he walks in the door by an eager Makkachin throwing him to the ground and licking his face roughly.

“Hey girl,” he coos, scratching her chin. “Missed you!”

“Oh, she has been just the ratbag,” Mari scolds. “The cutest ratbag, but she’s decided in the last few weeks that she enjoys singing at 5am with the roosters down the village too.”

Viktor facepalmed and apologised and Makkachin wagged her tail like she was proud. He couldn’t be mad at her. She’s just way too cute.

“Sooooo,” Mari’s left with Viktor in the doorway while Yuuri’s dragged into the dining room by his mother to begin an engagement party, ‘part one.’ “Marriage, huh?”

“Marriage, huh?” Viktor shrugged his shoulders. “I like Yuuri a lot. I love him, even.” It occurs to him for a moment that neither of them had said ‘ _marry me_.’ But that’s alright. Their life, their relationship wasn’t normal.

“I love you too,” Yuuri called back, overhearing their conversation.

Mari and Viktor giggle, and Viktor takes a seat beside his _fiancé_. The Katsuki family had a cake, and whipped up Katsudon, and seemingly the whole village of Yuuri’s friends and family turned up throughout the night. The table was filled with lots of other food, like _tsukemono_ , _karraage_ , _edamame_.

Minako, usually quite stoic, kisses Yuuri on the top of his head and says ‘congratulations’ and something in heavy Hakata dialect before grabbing Viktor roughly by his chin and piercingly staring into his eyes. “If you so much as fuck this up and ruin this boy’s heart…” the threat doesn’t need to end. Viktor knows what she means. He isn’t planning on it. If anything, Yuuri would be the one to ruin him because he’s fallen deep into the ocean of Yuuri’s charm.

Somewhere, in the middle of the conversation around the table, Yuuri’s face goes bright red and Viktor hasn’t caught what’s been said until Mari mutters under her breath that “mother knew you were sleeping together while you were here.” Which, Viktor knows was a completely platonic thing, (well, for the most part it was all above board), but it sounds much lewder. He waved his hands in front of his face and went beet-red too. “She said you can both share the room you stayed in. We didn’t hear anything.”

Yuuri chokes on his Katsudon and Viktor thumps his back to loosen it. “ _Okaaaaaasan_!” he whines.

“I promise we never did anything too untoward under this roof,” Viktor confirmed. “I could _never_.”

“Left it all to the hotels then?” Takeshi ribs and Yuuri cuffs the back of his head. Viktor agrees he deserves it.

“Stoppppppp!”

“Is Viktor’s apartment soundproof?” Mari eggs on Takeshi, as the terrible older sister she is.

“I think, my love,” Viktor hums, “this is revenge for you and Kira ganging up on _me_.”

Hiroko grins. “Everyone is happy. Yuuri is very happy. The most important thing to me that Yuuri is happy. You make Yuuri happy.” Her English is heavily accented but it’s come a long way in the time Viktor has been around and he appreciates it a lot. He leans over the table to give Hiroko a kiss on the cheek and she squeals delightedly.

Toshiya calls a toast now that everyone’s gathered, already eaten and are sitting around with drinks. Yuuri’s drinking a tea because he’s got to get to the rink in the morning. Viktor’s drinking sake out of an old pottery cup. But Yuuri knows he’ll bounce back hangover-free and is jealous. Yuuri’s dad says something about being happy that Yuuri is happy but his Japanese is slurred and loose. Then passes to Mari to make a speech.

“I don’t know what to say except what in the actual fuck happened to get Yuuri’s literal idol to bless us with his presence? I’m going to pray at the shrine more often and manifest the things I want.” She says in Japanese. Then she switches to English and says “If you break his heart you will regret it.” She slices her throat with her finger. The table laughs heartily and she passes over to her little brother.

“I uh,” Yuuri starts and covers his face with his hands in embarassment. “I don’t know. I’m. Not good with speeches.” He stutters before closing his eyes and facing Viktor alone before opening them again. Taking his hands in his own. “Vitya, _Vitenka_ , whatever this is I’m glad it’s forever because I love you. _Ya lyublyu tyebya fsyem syertsem.” I love you with all of my heart._ Yuuri’s not sure if his pronunciation is right because he’s only searched it online and practised it in his room, but Viktor clasps his hands to his cheeks all the same and gasps delightedly.

“ _Koi shiteiru_ , Yuuri. _Yukai_.” Viktor responds in Japanese and Yuuri’s parents are both holding hands as Viktor tries his Japanese. “ _Moye solnste_.” Like no-one’s watching, he kisses Yuuri softly on the lips and the table erupts with applause. “I’m just as glad to spend my forever with all of this love around us.”

From there, the Katsuki’s house slowly clears of people until just the Katsuki family are left. Hiroko’s clearing the table, Toshiya’s having a nap.

“Go to bed,” Hiroko ushers gently. “You have practise in the morning, right?”

“Thanks, mum,” Yuuri says, kissing her on her temple. She calls out after him that the double futon is already made in Viktor’s old room and he’s embarrassed as all hell.

“Hey, we gotta get used to it,” Viktor teases, making Yuuri blush redder.

“I’m gonna have a shower,” Yuuri deflects.

“I need one too. Shall I join you?” Viktor wiggles his eyebrows.

Yuuri turns around, deadpan. “I do not need you to encourage their jesting.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine,” Viktor huffs. Before Yuuri shuts the door to the bathroom though he calls after “we’ll just have to do that, and more, back home.”

Back home. In Russia. _Home_.

-

Yuuri’s exhausted. Viktor was especially tough at the rink, and then Minato stretched him in a bunch of different ways while Viktor practised for himself. The Katsuki household is a lot less busy tonight, and Hiroko’s been helping Yuuri pack up his things. She’ll still keep his childhood room mostly intact, she says. But Yuuri’s not got much more than few small things like photos and extra clothes that he’s taking with him from here. The main thing is Makkachin. She’s got all her veterinary records up to scratch to travel to Russia. The morning before they leave she’ll be sedated through the trip, so she doesn’t get anxious on the plane.

Viktor and Yuuri are lying side-by-side under the heavy futon after a deliciously long soak in the hot springs just after they had shut their doors to the public for the night. Viktor’s sad that in the morning they’re leaving for the Japan Nationals, and from there he’s leaving for Russia the evening after Yuuri’s skate to compete in the Russian Nationals, leaving Makkachin in Yuuri’s care through immigration. Plus, Yuuri’s going to be coming through Russia on his own for the first time. He worries just a little, but Viktor being his coach is sponsoring his visa. Well, by extension, Yakov’s really the one who’s organised the visa after Viktor said there might be conflict of interest issues with immigration after their relationship came out. It was a favour; Yakov hadn’t really warmed up to Yuuri until the Rostelecom cup, where Yuuri had been more than grateful for his emergency coaching. Once upon a time Viktor had told Yuuri that Yakov responds well to being hugged, so Yuuri did just that. Yakov pretended to push him off but Viktor knows it solidified their bond.

Russia’s nationals are smack bang on Christmas Day – Viktor’s birthday. They were both too busy to really celebrate Yuuri’s 24th, and they’ll be too busy to celebrate Viktor’s 29th together. But they’ll be together for New Years and Viktor insists, to which Yuuri blushes, that they’ll celebrate “properly.” Wink, wink.

When Viktor’s sleepy, he babbles a lot. Sometimes it’s not even in English, but Yuuri is happy to listen. Tonight, it’s about how much the Katsuki family is so wonderful to him. That his heart and stomach are always so full.

They’re holding hands as he talks. And with the finality of closing the Hasetsu Chapter for Viktor for real now, he’s saying how grateful he’s been to have Hiroko and Toshiya, and Mari, and the Nishigori family, and Minako-Sensei, all there to support him and Yuuri through the last little while.

Really, thanks to Mari, Yuuri got back on the ice because she made sure he was taking his medication. Thanks to the Nishigori Triplets, that video was put online. Thanks to Hiroko for never pushing Yuuri into talking about it, but still gently pushing him out the door to go to the rink if he was still milling about at 9am.

“I wish I had a story like this with my own family,” Viktor sighs, but squeezes Yuuri’s hands gently. “I wish you could have the same kind of love with my mother and father that you do with your mum and dad. I wish they’d make you traditional food. God, I’m going to lose so much weight not eating Hiroko’s dinner every night.”

Yuuri’s ears pricked up. Viktor’s always just said that his family situation was complicated, and he didn’t want to pry any further. But it seems like an open conversation tonight. “You’ve never really talked about them before,” Yuuri says gently, snuggling in a little closer to make Viktor feel like he was safe.

“Baby,” Viktor whispers and Yuuri’s sure if he hadn’t already melted into a puddle by holding his hands, he’s certainly one now. The word _baby_ just hits differently. “The only thing they ever did right was encourage me to leave home. I haven’t talked to them properly in about twenty years.”

“Wow.” Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to talk about it if you-” Yuuri starts but Viktor puts a finger on Yuuri’s lips to shush him.

“No, you’ve got to know I guess it doesn’t just affect me anymore.” Viktor rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Yuuri readjusted himself so his head was on Viktor’s chest. “I’m an only child. They are typical dance parents. I didn’t have my own hobbies, just dance. I couldn’t make friends, just dance. It was only through a school trip to the rink I decided Ice Skating was it. They hated that. They wanted me to be a dancer.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Yuuri says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Viktor’s pressing his fingertips into Yuuri’s scalp and drawing small circles. “The first time I got called names was my own father. He told me that Ice Skating was a sport for gays. That I’d be sucking dick in locker rooms and being used like a fleshlight. _Yuuki_ , I was _nine_ when he said that. I didn’t know what he meant but I found out by asking my coach.”

“Oh god,” Yuuri puts a kiss on Viktor’s chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“My coach got really mad. They had a fight. My dad punched him and ended up in Jail. Apparently, he’d had a history that I didn’t know of, of violence. Through all of that, my mother chose him over me. Said he had a point. Why couldn’t I have just been a _dancer_?” Viktor put both arms around Yuuri and hugged him tight. “It was just by chance that Yakov was there when it all took place. He’d been already coaching for a few decades and had seen me around.

“Initially he didn’t take me in. But he did get me into a skater’s dorm near the rink, and then helped me get a scholarship into a really good high school for athletes. Not long after that, I guess you saw me doing my Juniors routine on TV.”

“That’s a heavy weight to carry,” Yuuri said carefully. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Viktor shifted again so he was on his side, facing Yuuri, smiling with his eyes and clasping his hands. “It all happened so it could bring me here to you.”

“After you became a champion did your parents ever like, you know, reach out?”

“They tried,” Viktor said. “And I went to Yakov about it and he told me that if I were to have a relationship with them, it would only be because they want money or the attached pride of having a famous son. He’s right. They didn’t want me for me. They wanted me to become what they couldn’t. There’s not a day that goes by where I regret my decision to block their phone numbers, and while I was in Russia, filter all my communication through an agent.”

“Well,” Yuuri says carefully, “I’m glad you chose Ice Skating. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“And I,” Viktor smiles gleefully, “am more than glad that I got to meet you. My light. My Yukai. I am so excited to be competing on the same ice as you this year. I can’t wait to build a wonderful future with you.” Viktor falls asleep with a smile on his face and Yuuri strokes his hair for a moment while he sleeps softly, thinking about how much he wants to fill every hole in Viktor’s heart and replace every memory with joy.

-

The Japanese Nationals goes as expected, but this year Yuuri’s cheering harder for Minami Kenjirou. Minami is in a frenzy being star-struck meeting Yuuri Katsuki post-GPF silver medal. Even more so now that Yuuri’s actively giving him a high-five and telling him that he’s so proud of his improvements. Minami swears that he’s going to compete in the Grand Prix Finals soon, just you wait.

It’s a development that Viktor is pleased with. That Yuuri’s starting to give the other Japanese Skaters time of day. There’s been an uptick of interest in the sport this year too, according to coaches that Viktor talks with on the sidelines in his patchy, but slowly being functional, Japanese. Even when talking to the Nishigori family, the rink is busier than ever, so Viktor’s glad it’s countrywide.

Yuuri wins the Japanese Competition by an offensive amount and uses his time on TV thanking everyone for their support last season, this upcoming season, and that they should be supporting local skaters too. He grabs Minami’s hand and drags him into frame saying “watch out for this one.” Minami’s face is redder than his hair.

Viktor’s snuck off with a kiss on Yuuri’s lips to head to Russia for his own competition. Leaving Yuuri with a key to his, no, their apartment and instructions on how to get Makkachin through customs and Yuuri issued a proper visa. Yuuri’s flight lands early morning, so Viktor and Yakov will at least be up and at the rink to answer the phone if he has any immigration questions.

Leaving Hasetsu this time isn’t as difficult as Yuuri thinks it will be. Minus the huge bundle of poodle fluff, already sleepy from sedation. Yuuri feels a lot more like this is “see you later” than Detroit because there’s no way Viktor’s going to let him stay away for years again. “Seriously, if the GPF drug test had come up positive for anything, I would have blamed Hiroko’s Katsudon breading. That shit’s addictive. I’ll need my fix, and I’ll need it soon.”

Yuuri gets news that Viktor’s in first place after his Short Program just before he boards the flight. He wants to think ‘of course,’ but Yuri Plisetsky is nipping at his heels with a margin so small it’s almost becoming a running joke between the three of them.

(“Yurio says he’s going to cream me tomorrow,” Viktor laughs before blowing Yuuri a kiss on the phone. He hears an offended screech in the background.)

Getting Makkachin through the flight wasn’t as difficult as it seemed. She was still dopy coming out the other end of the airport which is optimal right now because Yuuri’s having problems with immigration. They make him sit in a sterile room for an hour while they call Yakov and work out that Yuuri’s coming in under genuine pretences. The way the immigration staff sheepishly release him makes Yuuri think they’ve been dragged by Yakov for wasting his time. He smiles to himself that Yakov cares so much about Viktor that he cares about him as an extension.

Finally, moving to St. Petersburg feels like the right decision. Unlike his time in Detroit, it doesn’t feel rushed and like he has one foot out the door. He doesn’t have to worry about University and exams either. Just staying in shape, learning Russian, and being an excellent _fiancé_.

That’s not to say they’re not going to be busy, but they’ve negotiated around their schedules. It’s complicated, with a competitor also coaching. But Viktor warms up by training Yuuri in the morning, and then spending his afternoon with Yakov. They have Wednesdays, Sundays, and every second Saturday free. They finish early on Fridays too, allowing them plenty of time during non-competitive seasons to explore Russia and take small trips away.

The morning’s going to start bright and early; they’ll wake up at 6am and have a sensible breakfast and be at the rink around 7am. Yuuri’s really not looking forward to being awake so early; he managed to get Viktor to agree to 8am back in Hasetsu and even that was a struggle. Viktor and Yuuri warm up together lazily for the first hour, but come 8am, Yuuri’s skating programs and practising his own jumps. They have a light early lunch together around 10:30am.

From there, they’ll part ways. Viktor will be coached by Yakov. Yuuri will spend time in the ballet studio every day for at least an hour. Then, his language school will go from 1pm until 4pm three days a week. Once a week, Yuuri will go to a pole class in the evening too, and Viktor will go to the same studio to dance ballet.

It’ll actually be the most busy-in-a-good-way Yuuri’s been in a while. He’s hoping the extra time to look after himself will reflect on the ice. While in Detroit, he had to work around exams and a brief amount of socialising. Now he’s training like an Olympian. That makes him feel weird. He might qualify for the Winter Olympics if he keeps this up.

Yuuri’s finally getting himself and Makkachin back to ~~Vikt~~ their apartment. He unlocks the door, unsets the alarm, and lets Makkachin out of her cage. She sniffs around a little before flopping lazily in the corner. When she wakes up in the evening she should be back to her usual silly self.

Theres an envelope on the kitchen table, and it’s got a tiny bit of dust that’s gathered on it so Viktor must have set it there before they left. But it says “My dearest Katsudon” on the front with the doodle of a bowl and Yuuri curiously opens it.

_Yuuri,_

_I’m guessing if you’re reading this then you’re finally home. So, welcome home._

_I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. All the adventures we’re going to have._

_The first time I met you, I can’t believe you don’t remember this Yuuki, I was put under your spell. You’re a complex bowl of ingredients indeed – bashfulness, sweetness, spice, everything nice. But most important, you’re the most loving and accepting person I’ve ever met. How could I not fall for your charm? I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Because you’re amazing._

_I keep feeling like I should pinch myself to remind me this is all real. You’re like a dream._

_I love you._

_V._

Viktor’s not even in the room, but Yuuri is blushing furiously. There’s hearts drawn all over the page.

Yuuri sends Viktor a message just saying _I keep feeling like I should pinch myself too. Love you._ He eventually gets a response that says _I love you too_. With a picture of Viktor wearing his Gold medal and an even bigger smile. Once all the commotion has died down he tells Yuuri on a phone call gleefully it’s because Yuuri believes in him and they’re stronger competing together.

-

Yuuri’s not jealous when Viktor gives Makkachin the first immediate attention when he gets home. It’s because Makkachin is a huge mountain of fluff and she wouldn’t stand for being ignored, and Yuuri will get his time later.

“Welcome home,” Yuuri says sheepishly as Viktor’s getting bathed in dog saliva and giggling.

“Being greeted by my best girl and my best boy,” Viktor coos to Makkachin, “is the greatest feeling.” He looks up at Yuuri. “I’m so happy you’re here. Has she been a good girl?”

“An absolute delight,” Yuuri confirms and Viktor gives her a big cuddle. “I’m glad to hear it!” Viktor gets up from the floor and picks Yuuri up delightfully in his arms too and spins him around. “Four days apart was too long, Yuuki.”

“We’ll just have to make up for it, _Vitenka_ ,” Yuuri purrs in his ear and Viktor shivers. “We both have a gold medal from our regionals. You know what that _means_ , right?”

“I have a fair idea. The last time you won a gold medal…” Viktor remembers back with a luscious look in his eyes. “well, I don’t want to tell Makka what we did.” Viktor mouths the word ‘ _sex’_ and licks his lips while raising one eyebrow. “But I’d be interested to meet you in the sheets once I’ve showered.”

Viktor’s a natural at flirting but Yuuri’s been getting better too. He’s practically bursting at the seams to kiss Viktor but he’s not so excited to kiss Makka’s saliva off him. “Do I have to wait until _after_ the shower?”

“Oh,” Viktor grabs Yuuri’s hand. “I guess you don’t. Maybe we could get on that _now_ if your evening’s free.”

“I’ll distract her with dinner and meet you in there in about a minute?” Yuuri offers and Viktor grins. Yuuri’s pouring out the special biscuits for he tonight. The ones that she goes absolutely bonkers for. He scratches her behind the ears and apologises that now he’s around she doesn’t spend as much time with Viktor alone. She seems happy to have twice the companions now though and wags her tail happily.

The water’s already running in the steamy bathroom and Yuuri slips in beside Viktor, but not without taking a good eyeful. There are bruises flowering around his hips from recent practises, and it seems a little weird for Yuuri after spending so long where Viktor wasn’t practising jumps. Yuuri leans down to kiss them softly before pressing Viktor into the glass and having his way with his mouth. Catching an “mmf” from Viktor who hadn’t quite expected the force. Viktor’s already hard too. Yuuri’s quickly getting hard watching him squirming under his lips. The way the water matts the hair to his body. The rivers that run down the curves in Viktor’s muscular thighs. Viktor’s going to come just watching Yuuri on his knees, dripping and flushed, but he can’t ask him to stop because he’s selfish.

And there’s this _thing_ that Yuuri’s learned how to do. Where he sucks Viktor right into his base and moves his tongue in waves along the vein running along the bottom of his shaft. Viktor’s shy suddenly at how quickly he comes without much stimulation at all. He knows he can last better than this. But it’s all so new and exciting still. Yuuri grins, rolling the semen around on his tongue like candy. Dripping wet. Mouth full of cum. Viktor’s not going to need much time to recover for round two and Yuuri seems to understand that. That image is seared into his brain. The number one image in his rolodex of things he’ll masturbate to for the rest of his life.

If he ever needs to masturbate at all. Because fuck, Yuuri has an impossibly high sex drive and will probably happily do all the touching and sucking and fucking he’ll ever need. It’ll be what puts Viktor in a coffin. He’ll die from coming too often. What a way to go.

Yuuri’s determined to kill him right now though, dragging his lips over Viktor’s sensitive stomach and up the curves of his chest. Back up to Viktor’s mouth. Yuuri’s tongue is in Viktor’s mouth and he can taste himself on Yuuri. It’s so hot. Too hot. Viktor’s going to malfunction. Yuuri’s erection presses against Viktor’s hip. Is it the steam that’s causing Viktor to feel so lightheaded? But Yuuri’s determined to make this last for himself, pulling away and lathering Viktor’s hair and rinsing it out in the meantime.

“You’re so good to me,” Viktor purrs. “If you told me this was the gates of heaven I’d believe you.”

“Can’t be heaven if I want you to do such devilish things to me,” Yuuri presses all of his skin against Viktor’s. “Want you to fuck me into the mattress so hard we need a new one.”

“Your wish is my command,” Viktor replies smoothly. He knows the swirling in his stomach means he’s not far away from being ready to continue their antics. And now that he’s not as desperate to come, he’s going to take his goddamn time dissecting Yuuri and giving him payback. Turning off the shower and stepping out to dry himself of, Yuuri follows his guidance. Towels off his hair. Dries his back. All the sweet aftercare things. But Yuuri’s got another motive. Viktor can’t ignore the erection standing proudly out of Yuuri’s fluffy pubic hair. “Want me to do something about this?”

“God yes,” Yuuri breathes. Viktor grabs his waist and hoists him up, carrying him to the bed and placing him down on the navy duvet gently, Yuuri’s feet gripping the very edge. Viktor’s got himself lube, and he’s kneeling at the edge of the bed with the post incredible view and he’s stretching Yuuri with just one finger, then two. Quickly, three. Yuuri squirms around on the bed and moans that it’s taking too long but it’s taking Viktor just the perfect amount of time to get himself rock-hard again. Yuuri’s _stamina_ isn’t _fair_. If this were the other way around Yuuri would hardly have gone soft in the meantime. Viktor’s resolve is to find out how many times he can make Yuuri come in a night soon. When they’ve got nothing else on their minds.

Yuuri is delectable. Stretched, lubed up, perfect little pink hole. Taut foreskin making way for a leaking pink tip. Viktor can’t hold back any longer. He leans over Yuuri’s body to give him a passionate kiss. So much tongue. Then he swirls his tongue once around Yuuri’s slit. Yuuri swears. He angles himself in and pulls Yuuri’s hips down to the edge of the bed to fuck him quickly. He wants to come at the same time as Yuuri so badly. Wants to feel Yuuri clamping around his cock. Yuuri calls him _Vitenka_ , tells him he’s the sexiest, whoriest man in the world. Viktor reacts strongly to the dirty talk and slams into Yuuri’s ass hard.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna fill you up,” Viktor moans into the pliant Yuuri. “Yukai, baby, you’re incredible.”

“I’m coming, _Vitenkaaaa_ ,” Yuuri drawls as his body seizes up and takes Viktor with him with the pulsing from his cock clamping his sphincter around Viktor’s thrusting length.

Catching their breaths, Yuuri looks down at the mess between them. “Another shower?”

“Another shower,” Viktor replies, giggling. They laugh all through washing each other off before they sleep tangled in each other. Possibly the best sleep they’ve ever had.

-

New Years in Japan, America, and Russia are three very different occasions. Yuuri spent most of his American years drunk with Phichit looking after him. In Japan, visiting shrines at midnight for _hatsumode_ and praying to the gods for a prosperous New Year. But Russia was a much grander celebration. Palace Square hosted shows, the President’s Speech, and fireworks at 3am. Other hotels sold tickets to shows and expensive dinners. Yuuri was surprised the fireworks show wasn’t bang on midnight like most other countries.

“What do you want to do?” Viktor asks, kicking his feet up on the couch. It’s cold out, and there’s pure snow all over the ground. Viktor’s not a stranger to it, but Kyushu’s completely different.

“I want to see some fireworks,” Yuuri says sweetly. “But I’m not so sure I need the crowds this year.” Yuuri’s feeling apprehensive about being out-out in public with Viktor in a place where he doesn’t feel in control.

“I know a place that’s not so crowded tonight,” Viktor taps his nose. “If you want to leave it to me. We can see how we feel afterwards. I know a place we can see the fireworks just fine without many people around at all, too.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, nodding enthusiastically.

“I must warn you,” Viktor says with a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek. “Us Russian’s take New Years the most seriously of all the holidays. It’s like Christmas, New Years, and our own birthday combined. Sooooo…” Viktor grins and ducks into the bedroom, bringing out a shopping bag. “I brought this back for you from my Nationals.”

“Viktor you didn’t h-”

“I did have to, Yuuki!” Viktor grins. “I had to because shopping is something I also enjoy! And seeing your face so surprised brings me joy too!”

Yuuri tentatively pulls out a beautiful, thick jacket that falls down to his knees. It’s navy with gold detailing around the sleeves. “The gold is because I only expect you to wear gold from now on!” Viktor laughs, poking his tongue out. Yuuri notices a bit of stitching on the left side. It’s in Cyrillic. “What does this say?”

“Viktor loves Yuuri.” He repeats it in Russian.

“That’s really sappy.”

“It’s really true!” Viktor pulls Yuuri to his feet, planting a kiss square on his lips. “Try it on!” He helps Yuuri pull it over his shoulders and it fits him just right, pulling in just a little at Yuuri’s waist. “And it looks, wow. Yuuri. I don’t think I can let you outside in that.”

“Why not?”

“You look _too_ _good_. Nobody else _deserves_ to see you like this.”

“ _Vitenka_ , you’re the cheesiest.”

Hand in hand, Yuuri and Viktor walk from his apartment downtown. It’s only 5pm, but the town is bustling. Bars and restaurants are full of people energetically clinking glasses together. “For a start, I’m taking you to eat.” Viktor pulls Yuuri down a few alleys until they’re away from the thoroughfare, the fancy restaurants with exquisite shopfronts melting into kitschy holes in the wall. When Yuuri gets pulled inside, he realises this is the Japanese Restaurant Kira had told him about a few weeks ago.

“Vitya, you didn’t have to,” Yuuri says again.

“We start the night eating Japanese, and maybe you’ll finish the night eating Russian.”

Yuuri unexpectedly howls at laughter at the ridiculousness of the innuendo. “Maybe so, if you behave.” They take a seat and Yuuri looks at the menu, and smiles. It’s no home cooking, but the food that’s coming out around him looks authentic. The shop has posters of Japanese beer, and smells like _dashi_.

They choose to order a _modanyaki_ , since it’s easy to share. The chef looks up and is excited to see someone who looks like him. He asks excitedly if Yuuri is Japanese, and they launch into a parry of Japanese together. Yuuri learns that Takamatsu, Kagawa Prefecture, is St. Petersburg’s sister city. He learns that there are a small group of Japanese people scattered around the city that meet up from time to time, and the chef passes his business card to Yuuri with his contact details telling him excitedly to come along sometime.

He also learns that this place is authentic as one can get overseas. The _modanyaki_ is excellent. So is the sushi that Yuuri orders. Viktor and Yuuri engage in a wasabi-off, to see who can handle the spice the best. Yuuri wins, to his own surprise. Viktor’s a bit of a baby when it comes to spice, chugging down almost an entire beer just to wash away the flavour. They leave with their stomachs full and smiles on their faces, and St. Petersburg feels a little less scary than it did a few hours ago. Yuuri can make a home here.

“Next,” Viktor leads Yuuri with his hands cupping through thick gloves, “I’m taking you to the theatre.”

Yuuri stopped in his tracks and gasps. “Are you _serious_? _Really_? The _theatre_?” he jumps up and down like a child in glee. “What are we going to see?”

“Moulin Rouge,” Viktor exclaims, his own eyes lighting up. “The theatre that shows it has English guides, but the story is already familiar so it shouldn’t be so overwhelming being done in Russian anyway!”

Yuuri wraps his arms excitedly around Viktor. “Honestly, thank you! I haven’t been to the theatre since Detroit. I love you so much!”

“Anything for you my love.”

The area near the theatre is much livelier, and woman are dressed in high heels and pearls hang around their necks. Designer bags in their hands. The facades of the buildings are grand and beautiful. It makes Yuuri feel like he’s living in a fairy tale. There’s holiday lights as far as his eyes can see. If a bird landed on his shoulder and started singing, Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Viktor pulls two tickets out of his pocket and leads Yuuri up the stairs. Seated in the front row of the second floor, they have a clear view over the stage. Yuuri’s got an English translation device in his hands.

“I hope you love this,” Viktor breathes and brushes a kiss softly on Yuuri’s cheek.

“I already do,” Yuuri’s squeezing Viktor’s hand as the theatre fills with people. “I don’t ever know how to repay you for this!”

“Just keep being you,” Viktor mutters against Yuuri’s cheek. “You are all I need to be happy.”

Yuuri _swoons_.

The show is more spectacular than Yuuri could have ever imagined. The choreography is delightful. The lighting and ambience is absolutely perfect. The theatre matches the acoustics and staging just right. Yuuri could get used to watching theatre, ballet, musicals, surrounded by beautiful architecture like this. Even the professional shows that Yuuri had managed to get to in America couldn’t compare to this. The show runs for a little over two-and-a-half hours but is over in a flash. Viktor’s been absently drawing little hearts on the back of Yuuri’s hand with his thumb while their hands are clasped for most of the second act. It certainly distracts lightly from the theatrics. But Yuuri couldn’t care less. He has Viktor. Wrapped around his little finger.

The same could be said both ways.

The air is more frigid now. But there’s a warmth in the atmosphere of the bustling street as friends throw arms around each other and couples kiss each other softly on the cheek. Yuuri’s fixing the collar on Viktor’s jacket as they leave and Viktor spots a stall, pulling Yuuri towards it. It’s a cotton candy stall with peeling fluorescent paint and a small but consistent line. “You absolutely must share one with me. It’s a New Year’s tradition of mine.” It’s sticky and sweet and bigger than Viktor’s head but dissolves in his touch. Yuuri’s not got so much of a sweet tooth but he has to admit the bubblegum flavour is up there. Viktor’s sticky fingers are in his mouth pushing candy floss in and he’s giggling like a child. It’s infectious. Yuuri’s giggling too. The exact kind of “in love” he’d been hoping for all this time.

Before Yuuri knows it, Viktor’s dragging him down another alley, discarding their stick in a rubbish bin and licking Yuuri’s fingers clean. Not in an erotic way. A few turns later they’re in a busy night market. “Don’t worry, this is as crowded as tonight gets!” But Yuuri doesn’t mind this kind of busy because it’s a fun kind, with stalls bursting with tchotchkes and old ladies handmaking pirozhki. It’s the image of Russia Yuuri had in mind before coming for real. There’s a hot chocolate stall down the end of the road, and Viktor grabs them a cup to share after Yuuri insists he can’t finish a whole one right now. It’s the exact thing Yuuri needs to defrost his hands, despite being in a pair of gloves.

“Oh yeah,” Viktor brightened up. “And this,” as he sipped the velvet hot chocolate, “brings us to here.”

Yuuri looks directly in front of him to find a not-so-busy outdoor ice-skating rink.

“You know, if you wanted me to go to practise all you had to do was beg.”

Viktor laughs. “Not at all. Let’s just skate together and have some fun.” Viktor bounces over to the entrance booth, winks at the attendant who nearly faints recognising him, and slips him over some money to pay for their rental and accepts the request to take a photo together. Yuuri somehow gets dragged into it. And then the attendant is taking a photo of the couple at the rink with their skates on. It’s uploaded online but Yuuri doesn’t want to know more about who, or what, or where.

Yuuri admits it’s fun to just skate around the rink. Not too many people have recognised them yet, or if they have, they’ve kept their distance. The music playing is a mix of Russian pop and songs that Yuuri recognises from America. They’re spinning around and dancing on the ice together for quite a while before a little girl comes up to Yuuri and speaks in broken English that she’s seen him on TV. Yuuri squats down to her level and talks to her about how he loves the ice. She’s pulled back by her parents a little while later to move on, and Yuuri links hands with Viktor again and picks him up in the middle of the rink.

“Why don’t you show us what that upper body strength does, huh?” Viktor teases while laughing again, sailing through the air while Yuuri steadily holds him like a trophy.

“This talent is multi-layered,” Yuuri teases back, placing him back on the ice.

The rink is emptying out, so Viktor skates over to the attendant he first took a photo with and gets him to press record on his phone as they skate around the rink. They’re gliding for about a minute just playing and laughing before Viktor lets go of Yuuri’s hand.

When Yuuri turns around, Viktor’s on one knee with a box in his hand. Yuuri clasps his hands over his face. “ _Vitenka_ , what?!”

“I know we’ve already got rings and I already call you my fiancé, but I always wanted to be the one to ask you first properly, so Yuuri, my love of my life, will you marry me?”


	5. Chapter 5

“I!” Yuuri exclaims. “Yes! Yes! Of course! Duh!”

Viktor peels off the glove painfully slowly on Yuuri’s right hand. It’s another ring, in gold, but it’s thin and sits neatly against Yuuri’s current ring. Engraved in the band, Viktor explains, is the month and day they’ve decided their anniversary is – when Viktor launched onto the ice and kissed Yuuri. They could have a hundred anniversaries by now, but that’s the one that grips.

“Wow it’s perfect!” Yuuri grabs Viktor’s face and kisses him for a long time. “I don’t deserve this!”

“You do, honey. More than you know.”

There’s a crowd gathered around them now and they’re cheering happily and loudly. Yuuri’s firetruck red and Viktor’s squeezing his hand before putting rolling the glove back onto his hand to keep him warm. Viktor on the way out of the rink retrieves his phone and slips the attendant some money on the sly. Viktor throws some peace signs (a habit he’s picked up from Japan for sure) at fans taking photos. He pretends not to notice the scoffs from people who obviously don’t approve. They don’t matter. Nothing is as important as the way Viktor’s heart warms when Yuuri smiles at him.

“What do you want to do now, my beautiful fiancé?”

“What would you say to just going to this “fireworks spot” later and spending some time walking through the lights on the way?”

Viktor smiled. “That sounds like the perfect idea.”

The feeling of the second ring seared on Yuuri’s hand. Warmth, happiness, love. Yuuri felt awkward that Viktor had gone to such lengths for the evening, but Viktor seemed happy to give. He’d explained before that giving gifts were one of his love languages. Yuuri’s were acts of service. He loved being able to feel helpful. But in return, he also needed to be directly told whether he was being a good partner. An anxiety hang-up. Viktor was more than happy to tell Yuuri at every chance he got. Possibly a little too much. But he meant every single word.

Walking through the lit-up districts, Viktor took many photos together. “I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life.” Yuuri holds his hand tighter and says “so do I.” Viktor asks if he doesn’t mind him sending the video of his ‘proposal’ to Yuuri’s family and Phichit, and Yuuri bashfully agrees. Yuuri’s phone almost immediately blows up with Phichit’s ecstatic messages.

_PC: You are too sappy.  
PC: The sappiest.  
PC: How many times do I get to see you get engaged before the wedding?  
PC: When IS the wedding??  
PC: Y’all better invite me.  
PC: Are you going to go home and make babies now?  
YK: Peach! Don’t say it like that!  
YK: Thanks though xx_

Viktor beams at the messages. “He really loves you huh?”

“Not as much as we love each other,” Yuuri grins. They pass by another stall selling hot chocolates and they indulge again by sharing a cup for a second time on their stroll.

“Do you mind if I take a photo of you with your gloves off holding it?”

Yuuri furiously blushes. “Alright.” And Viktor takes more than just one photo, working with the illuminations in the background. Light refracting off the rings. There’s one in particular he likes, with Yuuri’s eyes sparkling as he brings the drink to his lips. Yuuri chose to wear contacts tonight so they catch the light especially well.

“Can I post this online?” Viktor always asks if he’s taking an explicit shot of Yuuri whether it’s alright, respecting Yuuri’s choice to stay offline for the most part. That seems to be changing, little by little though. Yuuri’s posted some photos of Russia, of Makkachin, of little things around their home. There was one just recently with a tiny heart-shaped note poked under a book he’d been reading that Viktor had written. Viktor felt like he could fly seeing that unexpectedly pop up on his feed.

“Of course.” Something possessive comes over Yuuri for a flash, knowing that he’s desirable and Viktor wants him. He wants the world to know it. “You’re welcome to post the video if you want too.”

Viktor’s taken aback for a moment, but he eagerly agrees, trimming the video. The audio is too muddy to work out any words, or the cheesy song playing overhead, so he chooses to overlay just a snippet of _Yuri on Ice_ , captioning it ‘ _will you marry me?_ ’

Yuuri logs into his own account and posts under the photo _“Ya tebya lyublyu. Aishiteru_ _。Je t’aime. I love you.”_ And then a second message that says _“at this rate I’ll have more golds than you. :P”_

It’s the boldest Yuuri’s ever been about their relationship outside of the bedroom. Viktor adores it because he’s so proud of Yuuri. He’d shout it off rooftops if he was allowed to.

There’s quickly a comment under it from Yuri Plisetsky that says _“Otvatitel’nyy. Kimoi. Repugnant. Disgusting.”_

They giggle about it all the way down the street. Turn their phones on silent as they head back towards Viktor’s area. Yuuri’s a little confused why they’ve ended back at his apartment when he realises they’re standing outside.

“I have an excellent, private view of the fireworks later. But I wouldn’t mind having a few drinks with you before that happens. If that’s okay? We can stay out if you want though.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Yuuri grins, as if spending every waking second with just Viktor wouldn’t be alright with him. Makkachin is already asleep and barely wakes up to the door opening but wags her tail in approval all the same.

The balcony is adjoined to Viktor’s bedroom and it’s just about to hit midnight. Before they shut the bedroom door, they put on some classical music in the living room for Makkachin to drown out the sound of the fireworks so she can sleep through them, and Viktor brings a bottle of champagne and two flutes through to the bedroom. He drags some furniture around, so they’ve got an incredible view out over the harbour while they sit together on a two-seater couch.

Conversation between Viktor and Yuuri is easy. So much easier now there’s not the awkward sexual tension snapping through the air. Without the reflexive pulling away just in case things go too far. It’s nice to sit with the heater on and sweet glasses of wine and hands clasped together. Viktor can’t stop playing with Yuuri’s second ring. He loves it. He loves Yuuri. He loves being able to be the first to ask him to get married properly.

“Do you want me to wear a third when we get married?” Yuuri asks slyly.

“I’d give you as many rings as you wanted,” Viktor smiled. “I’ll give you the wedding you want. I’ll give you the life you want. We can get married anywhere and anytime. I’d get married tomorrow. I’d elope. I’d sing Rasputin as I walked down the aisle while wearing a bright pink thong and furry _ushanka_. As long as I have you.”

Yuuri laughs at the image until his stomach aches. “I’ve got the life I want here with you.”

The conversation lulls for a while, they’re just sipping on their drinks and looking dreamily into each other’s eyes. Viktor notices all the beautiful golden flecks around Yuuri’s pupils and he tries to count every one of them.

“We’ve got about an hour until the fireworks,” Viktor says with a small yawn once he loses count, checking his phone finally. Messages have blown up in the last few hours thanks to his grand gesture on the ice. It’s almost 8am in Japan, and Yuuri’s family have been messaging congratulations, even though they’re already engaged.

“An hour to fill and you’re tired? Sleepy Vitenka. I’ll have to wake you up.” Yuuri’s feeling floaty from the alcohol but he’s not too drunk. It’s really the perfect place to be mentally because he’s not worried about anything, just Viktor and how beautiful his fiancé is. He grabs Viktor’s phone and sets an alarm for 2:50am. “Just in case. I don’t want to miss them.”

Then, he pulls Viktor off the sofa and brings him over to the bed, pushing him down and climbing onto his lap. Suddenly, Viktor’s awake, and moaning into Yuuri’s kisses. He’s getting so good at kissing; his tongue is licking over Viktor’s lips and he’s stealing Viktor’s oxygen which makes his head spin. Their body moves with their kissing causing electricity. Viktor’s hard, Yuuri’s harder. Viktor’s lips are on Yuuri’s neck as Yuuri’s unzipping his jeans. There’ll certainly be a mark blooming under Yuuri’s ear in the morning. Yuuri thinks it’s hot. To be so explicitly claimed by Viktor. He likes when it peeks over his scarf just a little. There’s already Yuuri’s thumb dragging over Viktor’s slit as he’s lazily jerking his full cock. Yuuri tells Viktor to grab the lube and Viktor’s not sure what’s about to happen until Yuuri rolls off his hips and pulls off his own jeans. Yuuri’s fingering himself, stretching his own hole. It’s magical. Viktor is suffocating watching how efficiently he’s doing it. When Viktor goes to help Yuuri tells him to just watch, and he’s now on his knees facing away from Viktor and giving him a show. Scissoring himself with two fingers. Adding a third and letting out a moan. “Don’t touch yourself,” he commands, bossier than usual. If this is the succubus he’s going to get every time he proposes to Yuuri, he’s going to propose every day until he passes away.

“I’m going to come just watching you,” Viktor breathes, feeling his cock pulse at just the visual stimulation. Yuuri adds a fourth finger and moans again in delight. Then, Yuuri’s hips are back on top of Viktor’s and he’s positioning himself over Viktor’s cock and sucking him in. “Bring your knees up,” Yuuri says, to give him some support, and it pushes Viktor’s cock harder into his prostate. “Yes baby. Exactly like that.”

Viktor’s shocked but delighted that Yuuri’s being so forward. He’s pumping himself up and down on Viktor’s cock, and leaning back into Viktor to kiss him. “You’re such a good fiancé,” Yuuri purrs. “Such a slut. How quickly you got hard for me. How eager you are to come in me and suck on my neck.” Yuuri clenches his muscles as he moves himself and Viktor moans loudly. “How erotic you sound. You’re so good, Vitenka. So good. So good for me. You feel so good in me. Fill me up.”

Viktor feels like he’s going to have a heart attack if Yuuri’s Eros keeps blossoming like this.

“Yukai, I’m so close,” Viktor whimpers, feeling the jolts through his cock pulsing quickly and violently, on the precipice of letting go.

“Fill me up baby,” Yuuri moans, thrusting back down roughly into Viktor’s hips. It hits his prostate so perfectly and he shivers. “Come in me. Let me feel how full you are.” Viktor’s eyes dilate just as his orgasm hits and he brings his lips to Yuuri’s and moans. Feeling the beat inside him, Yuuri comes in violent spurts all over Viktor’s torso. Even after coming down from the high, Yuuri thinks the hottest thing he’s ever seen in the world is the way Viktor looks right now with cum on his chest and a still semi-hard cock with cum dripping down the shaft as Yuuri dismounts. “Can I take a photo?” Yuuri asks before he loses his confidence, and Viktor says yes. A polaroid camera emerges and the photos print out and develop within the time they take to clean up.

“Where did that come from?” Viktor asks, as they settle back on the couch post-cleanup.

“Did you like it?” Yuuri asked, raising his eyes and pouring himself another glass of wine casually, like nothing had really happened at all.

“It was breath-taking!”

“I’m just…feeling myself. My body’s in the best shape it’s ever been. I’m feeling sexy, powerful, and I’ve got the world’s hottest man on his knees proposing to me.”

“ _I’ve_ got the world’s hottest man,” Viktor corrects. “God, Yukai. You’re going to destroy me. Maybe I should choreograph Eros, Part Two.”

“Only if you want the audience to suffer from bleeding noses.” Yuuri clinks his glass against Viktor’s. “But I suppose I need to think about what’s going to keep them on their toes this year. Considering I hold the world record for the free skate.”

“Which I’m going to take right back out of your hands.”

“Try me, old man!” They giggle and settle in, waiting for the fireworks. They’re big and beautiful in the sky and the explosions cause sonic booms they can feel in their walls and hearts. They hold each other tightly like this is the start of something new.

-

Viktor’s got a soft spot for Yuri. Russia’s favourite tiger cub. During their time at the rink he’s always cheering for him while handing him advice. Viktor could never tell him but he loves him like a brother. Yuri would probably beat him up for it though. Or at least abuse him via text.

Yuri holds a world record, sure, but his body’s starting to go through that tell-tale puberty shift and Viktor remembers how that affected his confidence and his body. And his feelings. The weirdness that was feeling angry and sad and happy and tired and horny all the goddamn time. The acne. The way his legs buckled under jumps he could do without thinking in juniors due to the sudden growth spurts. Like Bambi on ice.

So, he invites Yuri over for dinner. It’s not like Yuri’s situation with his family is much removed from his own. And getting that pamphlet from Yakov explaining what homosexuality was, was just downright mortifying. Yuri’s showing the signs. He’s sometimes mentioning Otabek a little more often than just friends do. Yuri’s sixteen now. It doesn’t seem so disconnected to assume he’s working his way up to building a relationship. Otabek is eighteen, turning nineteen later this year. He doesn’t seem so innocent either. But he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to hurt Yuri or push him. Still, Viktor wants to cover his bases.

“You doing alright kid?” Viktor asks.

“Whatever. You?” Yuri’s not a bad teenager. But he does have a permanent case of Resting Bitch Face. And Resting Bitch Voice. Which makes him seem all the less approachable even when he’s being amicable. But Viktor knows he’s one of the sweetest people in the world. But only when nobody’s watching. He’ll eventually grow out of that shyness, too.

Viktor smiles. “It’s all working out. You feeling confident about training?”

“I guess so.” Viktor reads that as a no, but Yuri won’t probably tell him explicitly if things aren’t going well. Viktor knows he wouldn’t have said anything either. It was only ever Yakov that could read him like a book. Three decades of training teenagers probably gets you some kind of intuition.

“You and Otabek, huh? Still hanging out?” Viktor says it completely nonchalantly.

“Ew don’t ask questions. It’s not that I want to talk to you about this,” Yuri sighs, kicking off his hi-top Adidas and demanding a ginger ale bottle from Viktor’s refrigerator. “But I guess you get it, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Viktor passes the bottle open and listens quietly for the effervescence as Yuri opens the bottle. “I get it.”

“You know,” Yuri fills the silence. “He doesn’t expect anything from me and I guess that’s what I need.”

“However it works out, I’m glad you’re happy.” Viktor doesn’t press the issue more. He knows if Yuri wants to talk to him about things like that, he’ll have to pretend like he’s not really that interested. “I assume I don’t need to give you any talks or anything, but I’ll never judge you for any questions.”

“Ew.” Yuri repeats, sipping silently on his soda while Viktor fixes them a regime-approved dinner of cranberry chicken salad with avocado and nuts. It’s quiet between them until Viktor sits beside him and starts to eat. “How did you…” Yuri stops asking for a while and just eats. “How did you know you were you know…?”

“Gay?” Viktor finishes the sentence, and Yuri nods. “I had no interest in girls at all. Thought they were pretty but could never quite bring myself to want to do anything with them while I was sober.”

“Did you ever…?”

“I never slept with a girl. Did some of the other stuff, but didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“Did you ever…before Katsuki?” Yuri’s dropped the piggy nicknames and started respecting Yuuri as a competitor. It’s a recent development too. But this year overall has been a year of change.

Viktor shook his head. “Not all the way. And I’m glad I waited. If it feels right for you then embrace it though like, we’re different and that’s a good thing. It’s not one of those ‘have to wait til marriage’ things or whatever. But. The fame that comes with the ice is lonely. Having to pretend to be straight in the media fucking sucked. Don’t do that. Do anything but that. But be careful who you trust too. Some people will say anything if they think that’s what you want to hear.”

“Hm.” Yuri finishes his salad like a vacuum. He still looks hungry but doesn’t want to say anything, so Viktor passes over the rest of his. “You’re growing. Don’t worry about it. Don’t starve yourself for it.”

“Hm.” That’s all Yuri says again, but he eats until he’s content. “Thanks, old man.” They both look up, hearing the door click open. Yuuri has arrived home, sweaty and with clothes clinging to his body. Hoodie tied around his waist. Viktor pushes the thoughts away that Yuuri looks better than dinner.

“Oh hey,” Yuuri smiles at Yuri, and goes up to Viktor and kisses him once on the lips. Yuri scowls.

“Disgusting. You two are disgusting. _Kimoi_ ,” he adds in Japanese. “Nobody wants to see mum and dad making out.” He makes a vomiting gesture with his two fingers. “The dinner was alright, pops.” He pushes past Yuuri and exists the house quickly, almost like he’d never been there at all.

“Is he alright?” Yuuri asks, putting his arms around Viktor’s waist.

“Yeah, just had some questions about life.”

Yuuri grabs the third bowl of portioned-out salad for himself and a glass of water. “I’m happy he’s got you to talk to.” The shirt is still inappropriately clinging to the curves in Yuuri’s hips. But Viktor’s allowed to look too. So, he does. Plenty. Yuuri giggles. “Eyes are up here.”

“Hah, sorry. It’s getting easier for people like Yura. I didn’t have the internet to dig me out of the teenage angst the way he does. Nor an out friend to talk to.”

“That kind of talk?”

“Vaguely.”

Viktor gets a text now that Yuri doesn’t have to face him. Viktor wonders if this is the question Yuri really wanted to ask but couldn’t quite stomach. Viktor gets it. It’s not an easy topic. Viktor took more than two decades to label himself out loud to anyone. He never felt like he could ask people questions. Especially not the ones he probably needed to ask the most.

_YP: Did it hurt?  
VN: What? When I fell from heaven?  
YP: U smacked every branch on the ugly tree on the way down, jiji.  
VN: Nah, it didn’t. But it was uncomfortable.  
VN: If you’re gonna. Just go slow. It gets better the more you know what you’re doing.  
VN: If you can, learn what you like by yourself.  
VN: I’ll send you a link to some stuff tonight.  
YP: ew  
YP: u better not send me porn Im still a minor  
VN: Of course not. Just some videos that talk a little more about it all.  
VN: I know you’re not an idiot. But health. Consent. All that too.  
VN: You’re worth that.  
YP: ew_

Yuuri smiled. “Whatever makes him happy, yeah? He deserves the same happiness we have.” He sits down beside Viktor and talks over dinner. “You’re so good at cooking baby.”

Viktor kisses him on the nose. “And you, moye solntse, are so kind to me.” Yuuri moves from his dinner to making two cups of tea and washing the dishes in the meantime. Viktor happily watches him work. Whenever he tries to help Yuuri clean-up he slaps his hands away and tells him it’s his “little thank you for making dinner. Relax, honey.”

It’s all these little snapshots, Viktor thinks to himself, that makes him excited to be that old, boring, married couple post-competition. To settle down into a nice routine. Take holidays, have a house full of dogs, stable careers. Anything really though, would be okay, as long as he’s coming home to Yuuri every night.

He hopes that Yuri can figure it out too. A decade before he ever did so he doesn’t have to feel hollow through the ‘best years of his life.’

Viktor sends a few links through about sexual health and getting tested. Consent. That saying yes and no has to be an informed decision. Some non-graphic how-to guides for teens and an LGBT+ e-book he’s found for teenagers. Admittedly, that’s in English, but Yuri can read better than he can speak.

A little later Yuri replies.  
 _  
YP: thx_

And even more unexpectedly,

_YP: <3_

-

Yuuri and Viktor have completely opposite schedules. Viktor’s assigned to Skate Canada, but Yuuri’s going to Skate America first along the way. Viktor’s in the Rostelecom Cup, Yuuri’s competing in the NHK Trophy last. As far as opposite placements go, it’s almost perfect, because they give them both enough time to be with each other for all competitions. And it means only at the Grand Prix Fianl Viktor needs to play both coach and student.

Yuuri’s excited that the NHK trophy is a few weeks before the Grand Prix Final, because they’ll go and make a quick Hasetsu visit before going back to St. Petersburg to train the last three weeks with Yakov breathing down their necks. Yakov just sighs and rubs his temples. He’s got too much to deal with without these primadonnas. It’s probably almost better they’ll be flitting about entertaining themselves. Even if Viktor’s not participating in his usual pre-competition grind.

It’s also romantic, placement permitting, that Viktor and Yuuri won’t have a showdown until their Grand Prix Finals. Which they’ve got a treat of a pair routine planned for the showcase. They’re working on it today. It’s whimsical. It’s fun. So much fun. Intimately playing on the ice and calling it art and knowing the audience will lap it up. Practising safe lifts and spins. The rink is completely booked off to just them for a few hours so nobody, not even Yuri or Yakov, will know what’s about to hit them either.

Yuuri wants to level up the surprise. If they’re going to make this season Viktor’s last then they’ve got to go out spectacularly. Viktor wonders if they can’t get pyrotechnics and lighting, but Yuuri tells him to settle down. Just a little.

There have been a lot of times Viktor has smiled on the ice. But none of them as wide as now, being able to work competitively alongside his fiancé. They fall to the ground in fits of laughter as their practises come to an end. This is happiness. Viktor doesn’t need any more. If this is how Viktor ends his competitive career, dancing with Yuuri and conceding his Gold Medal reign in favour of supporting the person who means the most to him, then he will do it with pride.

Pride. Viktor’s learning to be proud of himself both on the ice, and off. He’s still not turning up in rainbow-themed everything, but he’s not ashamed of how he feels about Yuuri. Maybe the rainbows will come later. Maybe not. He’s got a lifetime to work it out.

Yuuri and Viktor are nearing their first official anniversary too. It lands while they’ll be in Canada. Looking back on the rollercoaster of a year and beyond, Viktor feels like he’s made the right decision at every turn. It’s the first time he can say that without doubts. Whatever happens from here is okay.

That’s not to say he hasn’t weathered storms in private. Even as fans all over the world come out in vocal support at every little interaction they have (and god has Viktor had fun reading the #viktuuri tags online – and god has Viktor had fun contributing little bite-sized messages through his insta captions that drive them crazy on purpose), Viktor’s aware that pockets of Russia have a venomous opinion. That they both deserve to go to hell. But Viktor’s already been there. Everything on the ice is love, sure. But sometimes the ice dishes a whole lot of pain too. Just to keep you humble. Seeing Yuuri suffering through his anxiety is pain. Having his parents leave was pain. It’s not as bad as it seems but some days still hurts. Viktor’s not sure that it will never not hurt at all. But Yuuri’s bridging that gap.

Yuuri’s having a rough patch just before they head to Skate America though. With a world record under his belt, he’s huddled up in a blanket and stroking Makkachin’s fur. He’s not talking about what’s wrong, but Viktor doesn’t need words to read his body language. It’s terrifying, having the weight of the world’s eyes on your back. Even more so, knowing that if one succeeds it might be at the expense of the other failing. He feels dangerously like Icarus. But Yuuri is so good on the ice. Better than Viktor. Fact. He’s got the stamina to push through his jumps. Viktor reminds him of this every day. On the days where Yuuri is defeatist, he says “is that really all you can show me today? I know you better. You can do so much better. We didn’t give up the luxury of the hot springs for you to wimp out like this.”

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri brushes himself off and jumps better. Lands better. Falls, but just barely. Gets back up quickly. But even at home it’s tense right now. Yuuri doesn’t even talk like he usually does, rather just following his meal plan a little obsessively, spending possibly just a little too long in the dance studio, and falling asleep violently. Viktor knows this part of Yuuri. Accepts this part of him. Wishes he could make all the anxiety go away. For now, all he can do is make sure he’s taking his pills and going to his doctor.

Viktor cuddles into Yuuri and feels him tense under him.

“Yuuki?” he asks and Yuuri just shivers under his touch. When he doesn’t get a response, Viktor tries again. “How much does a whale weigh?”

He feels a small giggle. “This whole time, we’ve not even been using the right animals.”

“I know that, baby. But it makes you laugh.” Viktor’s running his fingers over Yuuri’s temples.

Yuuri rolls over and answers “enough to break the ice. If you can get them on top of said ice in the first place.”

“What’s going on?”

Yuuri opens his mouth but closes it again quickly. He just snuggles in close.

“It’ll be alright,” Viktor uses his thumbs to draw stars and hearts on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m pushing you so hard.”

“That’s alright. I’d be mad if you didn’t,” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s sternum softly. “It’s just…a lot more to live up to this year.”

“Then don’t skate for them. Skate for me. Just me. Don’t look at the crowd. I’m going to be proud of everything you do. You show so much bravery on the ice. You beat your anxiety every time you show up to the performance. You’re Japan’s Ace. You’re my fiancé.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri cuts in abruptly. “Let’s get married.”

“We’re going to.”

“No,” Yuuri shakes his head and pulls back so he can look up at Viktor’s face. “Let’s get _married_. Let’s elope.” Yuuri’s got that same determined look on his face. It reminds him of the time he pulled Viktor into him by his tie and told him to “never take your eyes off me.”

“Really?” Viktor asks carefully. “Is that what you _really_ want?” There’s a lot that surprises Viktor about Yuuri. His boldness was one of them, but it isn’t so much now. But this has thrown him again. Not in a bad way, mind you. Viktor’s not opposed to the idea. He’s even said so much himself. But only if it’s something Yuuri really wants.

Yuuri nods, shy all of a sudden. “Like, we can’t get married in Japan or Russia. But like, god it’s embarrassing.” He covers his face with his hands and goes bright red.

“What is?”

“I want you to call me your husband so bad it hurts.”

“I bet you’ve been thinking about it for years,” Viktor ribs, pulling his hands away and kissing him on the nose. “Yuuri, my sweet husband. How does that sound?”

“It sounds so good,” Yuuri breathes. “Viktor, my husband. Do you like that too?”

“I love it. I want it too. When and how you want it honey. You don’t want the Japan wedding? Don’t want to fly your parents somewhere nice?”

“It’s normal to get married before the ceremony in Japan,” Yuuri says. “Plus, um. I don’t really want the fuss. When it’s happening. Like, I guess it won’t matter either way. People are still going to react all crazy. I don’t know. I just want it to be a thing we do together. With each other. Nobody else.”

“If you’re…serious about this,” Viktor supports himself up on his forearm. “Then let’s do it. When?”

“Um,” Yuuri says covering his face again. “We could do it in Canada when we’re there in two weeks. I looked at all the laws and stuff and it’s pretty easy.”

“Oh, you’re _that_ serious-serious? Okay. Well. Shit. Baby. Oh my god. We’re getting _married_.” Viktor wraps Yuuri up in his arms tightly.

“Only if it’s okay. If you want the whole wedding, we can do that.”

Viktor grins, rolling Yuuri onto his back and kissing him down his chest. “More than alright baby. I wasn’t expecting it but I love it so much. I love you so much. Shit, we’ll really be calling each other husband in two weeks!?”

“I’d be so delighted. I love you Vitenka.”

“I love you too, Yukai.”

-

With the excitement bubbling in their chests, Yuuri starts his season strong with a First Place in Skate America. It’s a strong lead too, signalling to the crowd he’s not here just to play games. He wasn’t just a one-season pony. He’s announced his season’s theme as “surprises” and so has Viktor. God, the crowd doesn’t know what kind of surprises are in store this season at all. Yuuri’s not even sure, and they’ve made a thousand plans, and a thousand-and-one backups too.

On the same ice as Phichit, they happily catch up after the competition over a few light drinks. Yuuri’s drinking lemon gin and tonics slowly. Phichit, just turned twenty-one, is having a few low-calorie beers. He performed strongly and ended up second on the podium.

Yuuri thinks about telling him. But he can’t quite bring himself to do it. Once he says it aloud, he’s afraid he won’t be able to shut up. Still, his leg’s bouncing up and down enough for Phichit to ask what’s going on.

“It’s…competition nerves. The first time I get to play supportive fiancé.” The last time, too, Yuuri thinks to himself.

“That’s really cute!” Phichit squeals. “The way Viktor watched you with hearts in his eyes through your performance was endearing. Can’t believe that man went out of his way to propose to you again. Big sap.”

“Big sap is right!” Yuuri grins. “I think he’s ended up being more sentimental than I.”

“Soooo…” Phichit wiggles his eyes. “How’s the sex?”

“Oh god Phichit it’s fantastic!” Yuuri gushes before clamping his hand over his mouth. “Oh god did I just say that?” Phichit is in a fit of laughter. It’s not like their entire University time didn’t consist with Yuuri pining about unrequited love. About how everything he ever did was to have just a chance at Viktor Nikiforov.

“And if I ask him, what’s he going to say?”

“Oh god, please don’t ask him!”

“Ask me what?” Viktor slides up to the table, engagement band glinting as he placed his hand on the table. Yuuri shrieked at the surprise.

“Nothi-“ Yuuri starts but Phichit smoothly cuts in with “how’s the sex, Viktor?”

“Excellent,” Viktor confirms, pulling up another barstool and sitting down with his ginger vodka soda. “If I can recommend anything, it’s to fuck a dancer. They’re flexible. Got good core strength. Not sure if the stamina is a Yuuri-only thing though. Keeps me up all night.”

“Viktor, fuck you!” Yuuri hides his firetruck-red face in shame and Phichit erupts in hysterical laughter.

“You can, later. Since you have a gold medal.”

“Oh god!” Yuuri exclaims while Phichit squeals “so is THAT how it works in the Katsuki-Nikiforov household?!”

Viktor sips his drink, contemplating how their last names sound really fucking good hyphenated like that. “There’s a lot that happens in our Katsuki-Nikiforov household. You don’t know the half of it.”

Yuuri loves the way their names ring together. He wondered if he’d end up taking Viktor’s last name, but the hyphenated sounds natural. Like they’re equals. He tries Nikiforov-Katsuki but likes the other combo better too.

Phichit is going to tease him for the rest of his life. And probably haunt him in the next with this knowledge, too. When Phichit eventually finds out that they’re getting married behind his back, well, Yuuri’s about to dig a grave and bury himself to save the trouble. Because he’s never hearing the end of that, either.

-

It seems like it should be a bigger deal. Sitting in the hotel the morning after Skate Canada. And Yuuri’s stomach is doing somersaults. Watching his fiancé, the last time he can call him that without a secret hanging over them, put on a nice dress shirt and wink at him drives him insane. Especially with a vest. Viktor Nikiforov in a vest. That pulls in at his waist. That shows off his skater hips.

Of course, Viktor leaves Skate Canada with a gold. He’ll be leaving the Americas with two.

If he dies right now, he’s going with his heart bursting out of his chest from nervous happiness. Not the bad kind of nervous Yuuri’s familiar with. The excited, bubbly nervous. The one that pulls the corner of his cheeks into the biggest smile, even when he’s not conscious of it. The one that causes his face to ache at the end of the day.

“Do you have your passport? Your driver’s licence?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri shows them to him. Viktor shows his own back, along with a form that’s neatly written in and signed by an attorney that agrees they can legally marry.

On the taxi ride to the government building, Viktor squeezes his hand. Yuuri thinks about all the conversations they’ve had in the last few weeks. Their views on family, religion, what they would do if either of them couldn’t walk anymore. Yuuri feels at peace that Viktor seems to understand him, work with him. Just two pieces of a complicated puzzle that couldn’t fit with anyone else.

This still feels really correct. Even walking up the stairs to the government building, it feels really, really like it’s the right thing to do. The right way to do it. Just the two of them. No fuss. Just a few months of peace to get used to it all before their world changes again. His heart is thumping. But it’s not a run-from-danger thump.

The process is more straightforward than it feels like it should be. They’re sitting in a rather sterile room. There’s soft classical music playing in the background. And then a kind, portly lady brings them into a small room. “Any witnesses today?” they shake their heads and she calls two other officials in to sign on their behalf. “You don’t have to answer but why are you choosing to get married in Canada?” They both show her their passports, Viktor mentions that he’s an athlete here for an event, and she nods, understanding what kind of a predicament they’re in. “I hope there’ll be change soon. You guys deserve to love in your home countries like everyone else.”

They’re asked if they want to seal it with rings and a kiss. Yuuri takes off his small band and hands it over to Viktor. “I don’t want to be the only one putting a ring on.” Standing in front of a Canadian flag, they’re saying basic vows. To take each other in sickness and health. In poorness and wealth. Rings go on each finger to make a perfectly matching set. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. You can kiss each other.”

They do. They sign the paperwork. Their passports and visas and drivers’ licences get photocopied. And then it’s done. Done-done. Just like that. They’re legally married in forty-odd countries.

It feels so underwhelming it’s overwhelming. Nothing like the movies, but that’s _good_. Yuuri can’t explain that feeling at all. Like the stillness of it all is exactly the type of relationship he’s looking for. Sometimes. Obviously, he’s quite happy to keep things spicy too. But, on his terms. On Viktor’s terms.

Viktor squeals in delight when they take a stroll down from the government office to a café not too far away. He can’t stop looking at his ring. “My darling Yuuri. Yuuri _Katsuki-Nikiforov_. My husband.” They’re going to change both their names later because that hyphenated last name has stuck. Right now, both of their passports are valid for a little while longer. And it’s exciting. Hiding such a huge secret from the world.

“My husband” Yuuri whispers in his ear, “Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

“You say that too many times,” Viktor purrs before they open the shop door, “and I’ll blow you right here in this coffee shop.”

Yuuri blushes and giggles. “You wouldn’t but maybe one day I’ll dare you when we can afford a deportation.”

They’re drinking a coffee. And Yuuri notices the way Viktor’s rings shine together wrapped around that coffee cup. Thinking back to his own engagement in Russia at New Years, he asks “can I take a picture?”

“Of course,” Viktor grins. Yuuri takes five. Chooses the best one and shows it to Viktor. There’s a beautiful blush over his face. A smile in his eyes too. His right hand is holding the cup and his left hand is brushing hair out of his face. Yuuri’s going to die. His husband is too perfect. Too. Damn. Perfect. That’s absolutely going to be his new wallpaper. His lock screen is going to be the picture the barista took of them together when she was clearing tables. You can see both of their rings. That’s intentional. The only photos of their wedding day are going to be snapshots on cell-phones.

“Can I post this?” Yuuri asks. He’s been staring at it for so long that Viktor’s watching him amused.

“Sure!” Viktor finds it hot that Yuuri’s gotten possessive over their relationship. Both online and off. If people are looking, Yuuri’s not hesitant anymore to kiss him straight on the lips. If they’re done for the day, he’ll force a tongue in too. It makes Viktor feel _wanted_. Usually when Viktor sneaks his own impromptu public kisses, Yuuri’s taken aback. Like he still can’t believe they’re a couple. Viktor wonders if it’ll change now that Yuuri knows he’s going absolutely nowhere.

He’s the first like on Yuuri’s feed as Yuuri posts the photo. “ _Will you marry me? pt. 2._ ” It’s captioned. Within a minute messages blow up on Yuuri’s phone from Phichit.

_PC: Y’all_   
_PC: Can’t_   
_PC: Keep_   
_PC: Getting_   
_PC: Engaged_   
_PC: I’m going to have a heart attack._   
_PC: Matching fucking rings._   
_PC: You are so gay._   
_YK: Ahem. I think you’ll find I’m bisexual._   
_YK: Don’t worry. We’re finished with the ‘will you marry me’ questions now :P_   
_PC: Says you. Viktor will probably propose to you again on the ice at the GPF._   
_YK: I guess we named our season ‘surprises’ for a reason then._   
_PC: As if you need more excuses to get him on his knees._   
_PC: Enjoy the sex tonight you horndog._   
_YK: 😉 you have no idea._   
_YK: he’s often said he wants to test my stamina_   
_PC: get it Yuuri get it Yuuri get it Yuuri!!!_   
_PC: phichitreaction.gif_

Viktor laughs such a beautiful laugh. “I guess we did name our season surprises. You still keen for that big surprise?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to let Viktor Nikiforov retire with a bang.”

“Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov,” he reminds, low so nobody hears.

“Ahh, this is crazy!” Yuuri clasps their hands together. “I still can’t believe that _happened_.”

“You better believe it, baby. This isn’t a dream. This is _life_. We’re flying, Yukai.”

With one extra night in the hotel before they fly back to Russia, Yuuri absolutely ruins Viktor while calling him his husband. Ruins the sheets. Probably ruins the sleeps of the people next door.

At least the date is easy to remember.

Happy anniversary.

-

Viktor wondered for a while if news of their elopement would drop. It’s not like marriage records are a huge secret. If somebody bothered to search them up in Canada, they’d probably find them soon enough. But thus far it hasn’t leaked in over a month. And now they’re in Japan for the NHK Trophy. Viktor took second place in the Rostelecom cup after pulling a muscle during the short program, but still securing his place in the GPF. Yuuri needs to place at least fifth in Japan to get through too. That should be easy. Viktor threatens he’ll plant raspberries on his stomach every day for the rest of their lives together should Yuuri place sixth.

Either Yuuri is talented, or terrified of the prospect of torture. Yuuri goes in with two golds to be the frontrunner for the GPF. It’s huge pressure. Going back to Barcelona and still holding a world record and being expected to podium. The current odds are on Viktor still. Viktor, Yuuri, Yuri Plisetsky. But Yuri’s been a little shakier than usual, so his bets have huge pay-outs on online betting websites.

Viktor desperately wants to tell Hiroko and Toshiya that he’s now their son in law. But Yuuri knows his family enough. “If I say something, it’ll get out. Hasetsu _gossips_. I want this to be a surprise for them too. They’re going to be delighted. Just you watch.”

Sitting around the dinner table they were used to sharing not one year ago, they were scarfing down Katsudon. Decorated with three golds (plus two more around their fingers) caused Hiroko to make an elaborate meal that could feed the whole village. Toshiya cracked out an expensive bottle of Sake. It had gold flakes in it too.

“Glad to have you back, Victor!” Hiroko squeals. Viktor’s Japanese is a bit rusty after not speaking it for a while, but he soon quickly remembers what he’d studied after a few drinks.

“Glad to be home!” he says beaming, stomach full of pork and alcohol. “I love being a part of this family!”

Yuuri silently chokes on a piece of katsudon, knowing how much truer that was than he’d let on to his family. He rectifies himself and approaches the subject boldly. “We’ve been talking about our wedding, mum.”

“Gonna elope?” Mari asks, sarcastically. Yuuri goes pale white like he’s been caught out. She says in English “god, I would if I were famous.”

“Its…” Viktor composed himself, “been a conversation we’ve had, yes. But wouldn’t that upset Yuuri’s parents?”

“Not as much as you think it would. After all, it’s not like you can get married in Japan for real. They’ll be happy with the first ceremony.”

Viktor nods, and Yuuri tries to calm down from being beetroot.

“The voting’s on,” Viktor continues to Yuuri’s dismay. “Nikiforov. Katsuki. Nikiforov-Katsuki. Katsuki-Nikiforov. What shall we do?”

“You don’t belong to each other, why take each other’s name?” Mari says, lighting a cigarette. “If you’re going to, I like Katsuki-Nikiforov. The three-four thing sounds good.”

“Syllables,” Yuuri breathes. “Of course, that’s why it sounds good.”

“Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov!” Hiroko says with glee. “It’s nice!” she claps her hands together. “Wow. Our darling Yuuri is going to be married. Let me make a ceremony happen!” she trips on her words in excitement, but her English has come miles since last year. It makes Viktor’s heart soar.

“How about a ceremony here, after the Grand Prix Finals?” Viktor asked.

“Yeah,” Yuuri finally said. “That sounds nice.”

“Traditional?” Toshiya asks.

“Wearing a _hakama_?” Yuuri asks back. “It’s hardly a traditional ceremony with two men.”

“Yes, but you would look beautiful,” Hiroko coos. “I want to see Viktor in a hakama too.”

“Maybe we can make it a little less traditional by changing to colours out too,” Mari suggests. “A deep purple or blue would be a nice change.”

“Blue. Ai blue. It’s the same word as love. That’d be nice.”

Viktor feels the conversation falling away from him with references and words he simply doesn’t know anymore. But he feels Yuuri relax and he hears the word love. The confirmation that his parents would just be happy for them was the most important part, after all. And they seem like all they want is their son to live with a smile on his face. Yuuri’s so lucky. So, so lucky.

Still, wrapped up in their blankets in the futon in Viktor’s old room, Yuuri wants to talk quietly about it. About all the things that make him worried about dragging his family into this shock. About how they can make it special for them. How they can find out first but not too soon.

Before they leave Hasetsu, they spend ample time in the hot spring nursing yellowing bruises after visiting Ice Castle Hasetsu. Though they can’t wear their bands in the water, Yuuri likes to play with the tan line on Viktor’s right hand. It’s so obvious Viktor belongs to him. Not just in the tan line, but the way Viktor smiles and hugs and kisses Yuuri as naturally as breathing. Not a second of these past eighteen months have been a mistake. Even all the things that seemed difficult that led up to Viktor knocking his door down with a hundred-pound bundle of poodle seemed like they were worth their weight in gold. Or last-placings at a Grand Prix Final.

Yuuri sleeps so peacefully. He forgets how comfortable Hasetsu, Viktor, and sleeping on a futon is. Being with Viktor is blissful always. But being surrounded by his language, his food, his culture. Yuuri doesn’t realise how much he misses it when he’s not home.

-

It’s as they arrive back in St. Petersburg the news breaks.

Not their engagement. Though, that was the first thought Yuuri had when both his and Viktor’s phones started blowing up like crazy. Vibrating. Incoming calls. From every direction. Hasetsu. St. Petersburg. Celestino, Phichit, Yakov, Yuri, Chris. Everyone.

Unsure of what’s happening, there’s a barrage of messages in both their directions. Yuuri feels dizzy. Wants to throw up. Is probably _going to_ throw up. Holds his head over the toilet as he does until his stomach is so empty it cramps. Viktor brings him a lemonade and some diced-up fruit and pleads Yuuri to eat as they sit on the cold tiles together.

Yuuri hides his head in Viktor’s chest as Viktor calmly reads the news, stroking his hair. “It’s going to be alright Yukai. It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright.”

Splattered on the front page of the internet is a all-too-clear photo of Yuuri Katsuki (Nikiforov, Viktor adds to himself), rink side of the NHK Trophy taking a tiny white pill with a bottle of water.

_Japan’s Ace involved in a Doping Scandal?_


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri hasn’t cried this much since Vicchan died.

But even then, the passing of Vicchan didn’t feel like this. The world saw him fall, but he was able to fade into oblivion under Viktor’s victory. Able to hide in a tiny little hot-spring town and lick his wounds. Being forever attached to Viktor’s name now means he’ll never be able to escape. Yuuri wants to drown. Wants to stop hearing. The voices in his head. The pinging of his phone. He wants to stop reading the thousands of missed calls and texts.

_Tell me it’s not true,_ Phichit’s reads. _And even if it is true, I love you anyway. Tell me what you need me to do. Do you need me to cut a bitch?_

“It’s just anxiety medication,” Viktor says, cuddling Yuuri hard, who’s cried all of his tears and is just shaking. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal.” Yuuri shuts off. Stops speaking to Viktor. Viktor holds him until his arm falls asleep.

After a while, Viktor gets up and busies himself in the kitchen. When he comes back, he slides in beside Yuuri again. He’s brought hot chocolate.

“How much does a giraffe weigh?” Viktor asks gently, picking the dumbest animal he can think of in the moment .

“They’re WANTING me to fail, Vitya,” Yuuri ignores the answer but takes the bait. “Whoever thinks taking photos like this in private sessions is okay. They WANT me to fall. They sold photos. They knew what they were doing. My fucking career. Everything I worked so hard for.”

“You don’t have to let them win. It’s just a Lexapro prescription.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“What? Having anxiety?” Viktor kisses him gently on the cheek.

“Yes! Having anxiety. How can I be a fucking world-class athlete with anxiety? What in the actual fuck?”

“Because,” Viktor kisses him gently and pulls Yuuri around to look at him in his eyes. “Despite your mental health struggles you wake up and get on with it. You don’t let it ruin your life.”

“That’s so easy for you to say because I let it get the best of me not that long ago.”

Viktor presses his palms around Yuuri’s face and says “I don’t know what goes on in your head a lot of the time. That’s true. But I know that you, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, my most handsome husband, are the gentlest, kindest, most hardworking of us all. Everything you touch turns into rainbows and love. I wish you could see the version of yourself that I do.”

Yuuri’s crying. His breath is rapid. His heart is thumping in his temple. Viktor gets up again and comes back, pushing Yuuri’s mouth open with his finger and putting an ice-cube in his mouth.

“Vitya, what the-?”

“I…I read somewhere this is good when you’re having a panic attack. The sudden temperature change. I don’t know. I’m trying. I’m sorry I can’t help!” Viktor hugs Yuuri tight again but quickly he stops trembling so violently.

“Don’t apologise,” Yuuri finally says, his voice not wavering so much. “I should probably tell my family and Phichit I’m fine. Alive. Fine is subjective.”

“I can handle it,” Viktor says. “Well, I’ll talk to Phichit and Yakov and anyone else who needs-to-know. You can just talk to your family.”

Yuuri pauses, then whispers “thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Viktor pulls Yuuri into a sitting position with him and hands him the hot chocolate. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I would take a thousand bullets for you, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

“You really like saying that, don’t you? Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

“My handsome, loveable, sweet husband!” Viktor beams back. “Love saying it, love hearing it. I know the timing of this is especially difficult, but it doesn’t take away from my happiness because they can’t take away the one thing that makes me happy. That’s you. Yuuri. Katsuki. Nikiforov. Husband. Of. Viktor. Katsuki. Nikiforov.” Yuuri grins with his puffy eyes and drinks the hot chocolate. “If I was half as attractive as you when I cried I’d show my emotions more often!”

“I look like a balloon.”

“Sexiest balloon I’ve ever seen,” Viktor shoots back, kissing him on the temples.

-

“Nikiforov,” Yuri Plisetsky hisses down the phone. “I’m so furious this is happening.”

Viktor’s shocked that Yuri is the one most fired up. Phichit, Yakov, Celestino, Yuuri’s family have all said they support Yuuri in whatever decision he makes about coming clean. But Yuri is angry. Angry-angry. Vein popping out of his temple angry.

“I know Yuri. I’m heartbroken for _Yuuki_.”

“I know where this came from,” Yuri spits. “I’m coming over. We’re going to talk about this.”

Exactly thirteen minutes later, Yuri Plisetsky is at his door, holding Katsudon Pirozhki, thrusting them violently at Viktor. Yuuri’s bundled up on the couch in a blanket, but he weakly smiles at Yuri. The first person to see him other than Viktor since the news broke three days ago.

“Eat up,” Yuri says in rough English, walking over and thrusting the pirozhki in his mouth. “I’m going to save your fucking career.”

“You don’t have to-” Yuuri starts.

“You should know better than to tell me what I do and don’t have to do.” Yuri rolls his eyes. He switches to Russian to talk to Viktor, who’s still in shock at Yuri’s brazenness.

“Those photos were taken by a Russian Private Investigator.”

“How do you know that?”

Yuri pulls out his phone and shows Viktor a few web pages deep down the Russian rabbit hole. Talking about how gay rights are a mockery of everything Russia stands for. About a tip-off that Yuuri deals with a doctor who gives him a prescription every month. A lot of joy in the idea of taking him down for leading Viktor ‘astray.’ Talking about exactly when he’d be at each of the competitions.

“This is repulsive.” Viktor wants to throw the phone. Instead, he starts to cry. He should have seen this kind of thing coming. He thought the hate would be reserved for little pockets of the internet, sure. Not that it would spill over into his life. Not that it would paint the person he loves the most in crimson and drown him in tears.

He’s a little scared that the marriage will leak in these circumstances. But the posts seem to start a little after Canada. He breaths just the tiniest sigh of relief that if it hasn’t leaked by now it probably won’t. He holds it dear. He loves being married to Yuuri. It’s the hardest secret he’s ever had to keep. Especially now, sitting in front of Yuri. He so desperately wants to tell him.

“Which is why I’m fixing it.” Yuri enforced. “I don’t believe Katsuki would bother with drugs. Doesn’t seem like the type. So. What is it? Depression?”

“Anxiety.”

“Of course it is. Seeing him bawling in the bathrooms. Of course it’s anxiety.” Yuri’s face softens a lot. “God I feel like a fucking asshole for ripping him to hard in Sochi.”

“That. And his dog died. But you weren’t to know.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

“Tell him that yourself.”

“Oi, Katsudon,” Yuri switches to English. “Sorry for being an asshole to you at the Grand Prix.”

“It’s alright,” Yuuri replies. “This pirozhki is really good.”

“I guess I might grace you with my presence and bring them over sometimes. Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Yuuri smiles weakly. Glad that Yuri is becoming closer with them. Yuri returns to Russian.

“Anyway. Leave this with me. And tune into my live at six.”

“What!?” Viktor exclaims. “What are you planning on doing?”

“Nothing that will hurt him. Later Jiji.” He pops a peace sign. Seems like he’s learned something from Japan too. “Take it easy, Katsuki,” he follows in English with a chaotic smile on his face. “I need you to be in your best shape so when I wipe the ice clean of you it’s on a level playing field.”

Viktor relays the conversation in English to Yuuri. Minus the part about the Private Investigator. That’s probably why Yuri handled that conversation in Russian. It won’t help with Yuuri’s anxiety spiral right now.

“What’s he planning on doing?” Yuuri holds his hands in his forehead.

“I guess we’ll find out soon.”

-

There’s such an inappropriate amount of tiger print in the background of Yuri’s room it’s impressive. Setting his phone up in a stand and recording, Yuri sits square on. Like one of those confessions or apologies. There’s a giant audience, almost a hundred thousand people have logged on to see the spectacle. They’re all expecting him to speak about Yuuri. He’s posted some messages saying that he wants the whole world to tune in. Listen to what he has to say. He’s choosing to do this in Russian to drive a point home.

“The last time,” Yuri says without greeting his fans, “I came on here for a rant, it was about Gay Rights.” He taps his forehead with his fingers, then draws circles in the air. “I can’t believe that was over a year ago. Or how that has become this big fucking thing.”

“Why does it matter? Why does who someone kisses matter? If they’re of legal age and they consent, they’ve got the right to be happy.”

“Of course, you know I’m talking about Viktor. Russia’s ex-sweetheart. Because apparently, you’ve had enough of him all of a sudden because he’s fallen in love with a Japanese man. I’m not sure what’s worse. The blatant homophobia or racism. It makes me sick. I don’t want to be anywhere near people who call themselves my fan if you can’t support their relationship. Disgusting. You’re all pigs if you think like that. Katsuki is a pretty fucking cool person. He doesn’t judge anyone. He’ll forgive you all without question. It’s a fatal flaw of his. His kindness.”

“The fact that someone thought it was appropriate to take a photo like that of Katsuki is also repulsive. Let’s have a little chat about how it works in the skating world. In the Olympic and professional athlete world. There’s this cute little thing called drug tests. Right? They stand there and watch you pee so you can’t give them a fake sample. They can pull you aside anytime before or after a competition. They can turn up at your house and make you pee right there. They’ll wait until your bladder is full. You cannot hide drug usage. They watch me too, someone who is underage, pee into a cup. Because that’s the rules about doping and drugs. Whatever.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable yet? Because this is just the beginning. I don’t have to tell you what that tiny little white pill Yuuri’s taking in this photo is. But know this, Yuuri would have been drug tested. The Skating Federation knows about everyone’s medication. What they’re taking. Why. There’s foods we can’t eat because they show positive. There’s over the counter medication we can’t take. Katsuki might be a lot of things but an idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Look at this,” Yuri brings a bottle into view. “This is depression medication. I take these every day. The Skating Federation knows about this. Knows about any changes in my medication. They gave me a strict list of ones I could take that wouldn’t be performance-enhancing, right up to an Olympian standard. Shit sucks. Having mental illness. But it takes a fucking brave person to get up every morning and take their medication and get on the rink. So suck my dick.”

“Talking about sucking dicks, gigs up, fam. I’m gay too. You’ve chosen the wrong sport to support as a homophobe. Sorry about it.”

“I’m calling on the Skating Federation to make a statement about this. To clear Yuuri Katsuki’s name. And I’m calling on you, Russia. To get your heads out of your asses. We know how this picture got out. It’s still not going to stop Viktor and Katsuki sucking face everywhere they go. All it proves is you’re a fucking idiot and that they’re disgustingly in love. But they deserve to be disgustingly in love.”

With that, Yuri’s live shuts off, leaving ringing in Viktor’s ears.

“Did he just…?” Yuuri asked. Obviously only being able to follow the visual cues.

“He just did the bravest thing anyone could.” Viktor’s sobbing again. Tears streaming down his face. “I can’t believe he did this for us-”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he came out. And that’s his depression medication.”

“Did you know he was depressed?” Yuuri asked gently.

“Yeah,” Viktor replied. “He’s not really talked about it or kept it a secret. It just is. How it should be. He just said that he supports us too. And that you shouldn’t need to clear your name. That should be on the Skating Federation. Which, it probably should be, really. I’m going to talk to Yakov about that.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri snuggles close into Viktor. “Thank you for everything you do.”

“It’s nothing,” Viktor says softly. “This wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t attached to me. So, I’m sorry too. For dragging you into this.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yuuri asks. “Even with this, this has been the single best period of my life. You’re right. They don’t matter. Just me, and you.”

“Would you like me to get Yakov to handle the rest?”

“Yeah, if he’s not too busy.”

“He’s not too busy. And if he is, I’ll make sure it’s not too busy to help you out.” Viktor wraps himself around Yuuri and hugs him tight for a very long time.

-

Yakov was already all over it. It wasn’t his first rodeo, nor would it be his last as a coach. As far as scandals go, this was hardly it at all. By the next morning, there was already an official statement from the Skating Federation backing up Yuri’s claims. That drug tests happened randomly. That prescription medication was a completely normal thing. That all athletes must report changes immediately.

Almost immediately, the reception online changed back to being pro-Yuuri. Not only has Yuuri managed to secure himself the LGBT crowd, but now he’s a poster child for taking medication. Yuuri’s not even mentioned what he’s on, but it’s been figured out accurately. The photos were just that clear that the small triangles on the pills could be made out. That the bottle said Escitalo…(pram).

Not to mention the cult following Yuri Plisetsky has pulled. “Wow. I want to be that cool!” the fans write on every post. Like K-Pop stans, they take over hashtags accusing the Yuri’s of being weak by posting their own bottles of medication and calling themselves “Fucking Brave, like World Record Holders Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri knows he’s going to be alright now. He can breathe again. He also knows that he owes Yuri Plisetsky, probably for the rest of his life. But still. It hurts knowing people are wanting to bring him down. And sometimes he’s overwhelmed with bouts of sadness that somebody would feel so strongly about him and Viktor that they would hurt them both on purpose.

Viktor’s been so kind. So understanding. But he’s lost almost a whole week to it now and they’re so close to Grand Prix Finals it hurts. Viktor doesn’t try to pressure him too much, but their finals aren’t just dependent on one of them. They’re leaving in just five days to get settled in Barcelona. It’s going to be the biggest Grand Prix Finals yet.

“How much does a penguin weigh?” Viktor asks when Yuuri is silently hunched over a bowl of muesli and Greek yogurt. He’s drinking a black coffee. His phone is face down and he’s staring too intently into the lumps of oats.

“Enough to get back up on the ice,” Yuuri pats the seat beside him and lifts his face. “Let’s wrap this up. Let’s blow some records out of the water. Let’s give them a finale they won’t expect.” For such grand statements, Yuuri is surprisingly calm.

“You’re still planning on skating next season though, right?” Viktor asks.

“Of course. I love the ice. I love it so much with you. But if I win Gold, I’d be selfish to step off without being motivation for next season. If I win Silver, then you married me without one. I’ll probably step off around the same age as you, injury permitting. Which gives me, what, three seasons left? An Olympics too.”

“God, imagine if I got to kiss an Olympian?” Viktor says with a glimmer in his eyes. “You’ve gotta become an Olympian!”

“Well, the qualifiers are next year, realistically. Who else is going to go from Japan? Minami isn’t quite there for next year. He’ll be strong at the one after, I’m sure. The Japan Skating Federation wants to send somebody. Might as well be me.” Yuuri pushes the hair out of Viktor’s eyes. “I can tell you from experience that kissing an Olympian is a pretty nice feeling.”

“Tell me more,” Viktor winks.

“You’ll just have to be patient so I can show you. Anyway, I’m almost done. Let’s leave in ten.”

They run to the rink together. It’s not that far from Viktor’s house and the snow hasn’t started settling on the streets. It’s unusually warm for early December. Yakov yells at them to hurry up and get on the rink and they practise their short programs. Yakov is less than impressed that Viktor’s saying they’ve both got something amazing up their sleeve for their Short Program and Free Skate. Most skaters don’t change a few weeks before. Viktor swears he can see the steam rising from his ears.

“But,” Viktor says with a grin, tapping his nose. “We have been practising all season. It’s just been a secret. It’ll be worth it.”

“Hurry up and retire so I can keep my blood pressure down!” Yakov yells back.

Yuri smiles when he sees Yuuri stretching rink side. He soon scowls when Yuuri smiles back. 

It’s going to be so good. They have an early morning session by themselves to practise their exhibition skate. It’s going to blow everyone away. No matter where they podium, their exhibition is where the true magic is going to be. Viktor’s clutching one of the copies of the mashup they’ve made for the occasion. He knows it’s going to drive people crazy. Their whole setlist is. It’s a far cry from the classical music that Viktor’s known for. It’s pop and electric. Searching for songs with Yuuri all season was so much fun. Bundled up on the couch going through playlists that would satisfy the time requirements for short and free skates. Getting someone professionally to work on a remix for their final to bring it under time.

It’s time. To blow this out of the water. The morning they’re leaving has come. They’ve stuffed costumes into suitcases, spare skates and blades. Tried on their final costumes (and promised to ruin them to the point they’re un-drycleanable).

-

Barcelona is an exciting type of nostalgic. Though it’s Yuuri’s first time in front of the cameras post-allegations, he’s stored that in the back of his mind in favour of enjoying the delicious food around Spain with Viktor when they’re not getting in some jumps at the rink. They don’t skate their final programs in Barcelona. It’s all a surprise.

They make time for the Christmas Markets again. They walk past the jewellery shop. Smiling as they hold their own rings up, they take a photo. They take many, many photos. Yuuri doesn’t hate having his picture taken anymore because Viktor squeals and says this is the “cutest one yet!” to every single one.

Joining them in the Grand Prix Finals is Phichit, Chris, Otabek, and Yuri. Possibly the strongest line-up of competitors the Grand Prix has ever seen. It’ll be the last time Viktor will be competing, and by the sounds of it, Chris is hanging up his skates too. He’s 26 now too and starting to feel the wear on his body like Viktor. Otabek also skates an amazing season coming into the program, and is predicted to podium next year by betting pools.

Phichit is absolutely fizzing to be holed up in a hotel room with Yuuri the night before their Short Program. They don’t talk about the scandal. They spend their time gossiping about skating, Celestino, University, and all the people they knew back in Detroit. While watching a trashy movie. It’s a comfortable kind of nostalgia. Yuuri’s glad he didn’t retire last season after all. And that he’s able to watch Phichit’s skating again live and be his biggest cheerleader.

Viktor gets drawn to skate first for his short program, followed by Phichit, Chris, Yuuri, Yuri, and Otabek. Viktor’s snuck behind the scenes to make sure the free skate places their skates back to back. Doesn’t matter where, he says. Just that it’ll be more interesting if they do. After all, the Grand Prix Final isn’t just about skating, it’s about entertainment too.

Viktor and Yuuri pull the last two spots of the free skate. If there was ever a way to make history, this was going to be it.

Viktor skates strongly in his Short Program. He pulls a reasonable score that will surely land him in the top three. Yuuri can’t help but cheer his name like not saying it will cause him to stop breathing. This was the moment they’d been building up to for a whole year and Viktor was killing it. But he lands a little shaky on his last jump. Yuuri overpasses him by a tiny margin during his skate, and Yuri Plisetsky leaves the Short Program in first. Not quite beating his World Record, but certainly proving it wasn’t a fluke either.

There’s less than five points between Yuri and Viktor and Yuuri is sandwiched between them. It’s going to be a close competition. But Viktor has this shit-eating grin that he brings over to Yakov that says _“see, I could do both.”_

“It’s only because your student doesn’t need his hand fucking held. Nor does he need to be pulled in for being a little shit and acting like his coach is a joke,” Yakov barks. It’s from a place of love. Viktor can’t stop laughing.

-

Post Short Program interviews manage to separate Viktor and Yuuri for a while. Though they manage to front a lot of their interviews together. The fans lap it up when Viktor kisses Yuuri on the cheek, and Yuuri turns around to kiss him straight on the lips. Viktor’s got this cheeky wink. Yuuri’s mastered it too. He murmurs, just loud enough for the microphones to pick up “I love you Vitenka. You did amazing today.”

Yuuri slaps his ass on the way out and Viktor considers cancelling the rest of the press conferences right there and then to feel him up in the locker room.

Yuuri’s prepared in the mirror to front those questions about his medication. But somehow, all the lines he’s practised get stuck in his throat when he’s being barked at by the media. Usually, Viktor would be there covering for him and telling them there’s no further comments, but he’s at his own interviews with Yakov.

It all comes spilling out.

“I understand there is concern about professionalism. About unfair advantages,” Yuuri starts with the lines he’s practised. But a feeling of frustration bubbles up inside of him. He thinks about Yuri. How he doesn’t apologise for shit and how he put himself on the line to shield Yuuri. Yuri might ask for forgiveness if he’s really crossed a boundary but never for permission. Yuuri’s going to channel that energy and Plisetsky is going to be proud of him.

“Actually.” Yuuri clears his throat. “I don’t really care what you think about me anymore. If taking anxiety medication, or if being with Viktor is too much for you then I can’t change how you think about me. But I’ll let my actions speak louder than my words. I’ll continue to cheer for other skaters. I’ll do my best to break down stereotypes about mental health. This season is surprises. These allegations were certainly a surprise. But this season isn’t over yet. This is my narrative to claim.”

Yuuri turns around to leave, before grabbing a microphone and staring into a camera pointed directly at him. That feeling of possessiveness rises in his chest again.

“Let me say something about love. Viktor has shown me such beautiful love on the ice. He’s taken an entire season off to show me he loves me. And he stayed on the ice this season to show me he loves me. Love is happiness, not hate. And I agree with Yuri Plisetsky. All the sponsorships that Viktor lost when he came out are their loss, not his. Stop living in the 1950’s. It doesn’t change anything. It just makes you look stupid.”

“And there is nothing you can do about Vitya and I getting married so you can suck my dick.”

Yuuri winks and pulls a peace sign. He makes his way through the screaming crowd and finds Viktor talking about the technicalities of his program. Yuuri catches his attention and makes a gesture that says ‘let’s get out of here’ and Viktor wraps up his interviews professionally. They sneak out a side door to avoid the crowd still dressed in their costumes with team jackets shrugged over their shoulders.

Yuuri can’t stop laughing at Yuri Plisetsky’s reaction.

_YP: Telling the media to suck your dick is the most badass thing you’ve ever done.  
YP: Congratulations on growing a pair.  
YP: yuurikatsukihashadenough.mp4_

“You look pretty keen to leave,” Viktor mutters as they slip out between a few alleyways.

“I just did something that might be kinda stupid!” Yuuri said. But he didn’t feel that anxiety swell up at all. Just more laughter. It was simply put, ridiculous.

“What did you say?” Viktor asked, with his lips in an o.

Yuuri’s plays Viktor the video on their walk. Viktor looks stunned. And then he just can’t stop laughing either which sets Yuuri off again.

“Wow, Yuuri. You’re really making use of this surprises theme this year. Who knew my delicious saucy Katsudon could tell the media to suck your dick? Isn’t that my job and my job only?”

“Since you’re standing in third place tonight, maybe you’d like to be on your knees,” Yuuri says slyly. “I’m sorry though! I didn’t mean to go on a tirade. Or drag your name through it.”

“No,” Viktor grins. “I really like this version of my Yuuri. Surprises. I didn’t know I was with someone so sassy. Show me what else that mouth can do.”

They giggle to themselves as they duck into a bar to cool down with some drinks. Viktor tries his best Yuuri impression, watching the video a dozen more times. He laughs at the media reception. He cries laughing at Chris’ message of support.

_CG: Damn. If Katsuki wants anyone to suck his dick I’ll be first in line. Just let me know xo  
VN: Stick to your own damn husband and I’ll stick to mine.  
CG: :o you two are going to be so extra when you’re married.  
VN: you wanna see extra? Tune in for the exhibition skate :P  
CG: Damn. What kind of exhibitionism you into ayyy papi _ _😉  
VN: I’m not out here to kink-shame anyone.  
VN: And I’m not saying I’m not into the idea of it ;P_

Viktor liked the way that innuendo of their nuptials slipped out but Chris didn’t seem to catch onto it. Yuuri loved the attention. A change from wanting to hide in the background. Yuuri was completely in control of his Eros. He had finally grown into his maturing face and body.

_PC: damn  
PC: hot damn  
PC: slapping Viktor’s ass  
PC: a boss  
PC: and that kiss  
PC: was that a cheeky slip of tongue????????  
PC: oh god. You’ve fed the fandom for years.  
PC: everyone’s wet dream is to have a clip of Yuuri Katsuki  
PC: in spandex  
PC: saying ‘suck my dick’  
PC: and then throwing a wink and peace sign  
YK: my wet dream is to have a clip of Viktor saying ‘suck my dick’  
YK: but I guess I can take that video myself _ _😉  
PC: yeowww y’all too horny  
PC: bc I’m your friend pretend this isn’t coming from me but  
PC: upload that shit online please  
YK: nah, we’re good at keeping some parts of our life a secret  
YK: _ _😉_

Viktor and Yuuri can’t stop laughing together. Not at the bar. Not in the hotel. Not when they arrive late to their friends gathering near the hotel because Viktor’s played ‘suck my dick’ over and over again so much he’s going to do exactly that.

~~Yuuri absolutely hasn’t taken a video of Viktor saying the exact same while dripping with sweat in his own short skate outfit.~~

Even with the bad shit that happened a few weeks back. Even with the stress and pressure of performing. Yuuri wouldn’t change this timeline. Not for anything. Because Viktor is between his legs blowing him like there’s a gold medal on the line.

-

The last day of competitions is tumultuous. Yuri Plisetsky gives Yuuri a high five before heading out for his Free Skate. He skates exceptionally well but touches the ice on his last jump. The crowd still cheers blisteringly loud, but once Yuri’s out of his skates, his ankle is wrapped in ice. Viktor knows that feeling well. Knows it’s a symptom of puberty. He can’t help but want to hug Yuri and tell him it’s okay, but he knows if he does he’ll end up buried. Nobody would find the body if Yuri were so determined.

Building on his last season, Phichit skates well too. But falls just behind Yuri. Chris does too, but he just doesn’t have the quads to bring his GOE up to the same level as Yuri either. By calculation, Yuuri and Viktor should hit top two.

Otabek surprises the crowd with a strong performance to dramatic thunderous music. In the program, there was evidence of Yuri Plisetsky’s handiwork. Everything on the ice is love. Viktor knows that Otabek, in whatever form or strength, must love Yuri. They all do. He hopes Yuri feels it. Being a teenager makes feeling all of that more complicated.

Viktor’s on the ice, shrugging his Russian jacket off his shoulders and handing it to Yuuri. They kiss so long on the side lines they almost run out of time.

The song is by Galantis. In My Head. The tempo is fast enough to warrant complicated footwork, and has enough builds and falls to give dramatic jumps. The song was added to their playlist while Viktor was dancing around the living room with Yuuri tipsy a few months before Skate America.

_I do it for you._

Viktor’s costume is Emerald Green and Gold. It sticks to his body like it’s melded to his skin. There’s beautiful panelling criss-crossing his chest. Yuuri nearly died when Viktor put it on in the locker rooms earlier. That was a wee surprise that even Yuuri didn’t know.

When Viktor finishes, he’s facing Yuuri, who has tears pouring down his face. He can only but kiss Yuuri quickly before heading to the Kiss and Cry. Yuuri wishes he could be beside Viktor, but he’s got to get out on the ice and prove that everything they’ve been through since Viktor arrived in Hasetsu is worth it.

The score for Viktor Nikiforov is 221.81. It slyly breaks Yuuri’s Free Skate World Record from the previous season and screams are heard from the audience. Yuuri is sure one of these screams is from himself as he applauds on the ice. It’s the ultimate compliment as a husband knowing this program was for you and written together. He’s in first place now. Yuri’s in second. How Yuuri places now determines their rankings.

Such an impressive score was the ultimate fire as a competitor to push just a little bit harder. Yuuri knows he can. He’s in much better shape than last year. He’s been training better, longer, harder.

The audience’s shock when the exact same song starts to play, murmuring to themselves like it was a mistake but Yuuri launches into it with the biggest smile on his face.

And the exact same choreography comes from Yuuri. The same quad-loop. The same salchow. The same footwork. Everything.

Yuri Plisetsky clasps his hand over his mouth. This is the ultimate showdown. There’s nothing more comparable than skating the same program. The same jumps. The winner really just is the better competitor. Yuri looks at Yakov’s floored expression. That they’d kept all of this away from him yet were still skating with technicality and grace and precision.

This season was about surprises.

This season was for each other.

_I do it for you._

Yuuri melts to the ice and sobs as toy poodles are thrown into the arena. As he hears _Katsuki_ chanted around the arena. Yuri Plisetsky is holding a banner with a bowl of Katsudon on it. Unintentionally, he’s become Yuuri’s biggest fan.

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand and kisses him in the Kiss and Cry. They both cry in the Kiss and Cry too. Because why not have it all when this is the last time they’ll be together like _this_.

Yuuri knows it’s the best he’s ever skated. His jumps were all rotated completely. His landings were smooth. He expects to podium.

He isn’t expecting to see 223.01 on the board, breaking Viktor’s World Record from five minutes ago.

He isn’t expecting to see himself in first place.

He isn’t expecting to hear that he now holds the World Record for his super-score. 336.99. That he’s now the number one ranked skater in the world, ever.

He’s pretty sure he passes out because there’s a blacked-out period following seeing those numbers and being smothered by his coach to being dragged back out onto the ice.

Again, when he’s on the podium, and Viktor reaches up in front of the audience to kiss Yuuri’s medal.

This season is golden.

This time, Yuuri _knows_ he passes out.

-

There’s countless interviews. About what this means now. Viktor talks about how he’s happy to go out on a high of second place. How Yuuri Katsuki is the single most amazing person in his life. He gushes. Disgustingly so. “I’m so in love. Everything on the ice is love. Everything the ice gives me back is love. I met Yuuri on the ice. I’m happy to end my professional career as a skater here, tomorrow, in my exhibition skate.”

“Yes!” Yuuri cuts in. “Watch the exhibition skate tomorrow. We’ll be skating a wee thing together too. I hope you like it!”

The ringing in their ears from the chaos is crazy. They can hardly sleep that night. Viktor happily indulges Yuuri in an adrenaline-filled tryst between the sheets. Twice. Three times when they wake up the next morning. How old are they again? Because it feels like they’re teenagers. Yuuri loves this feeling of making up for lost time. And now, without Viktor competing again but still just as eager to be on the ice, they’ll have more time for it all. More time with Makkachin. More time to build the life they want.

Viktor passes the CD over to the sound team for their exhibition skate. The cumulation of their entire careers so far. Then in the changing rooms, he zips up Yuuri’s costume, pressing a kiss delicately on his temple and telling him he loves him. The costumes are reminiscent of their pair skate last year, but have beautiful sheer panelling around their hips, and more rhinestones than you can count. Yuuri catches the light and refracts rainbows and his smile melts Viktor into a puddle. Then, he’s zipping Viktor’s costume and telling him he loves him back. They tightly tie their skates and take deep breaths. Hand in hand, they walk up the stairs and enter the rink.

The first song is one the audience can sing to – All Things by Betty Who. It’s attached to a popular TV program. _You came into my life, and the world never looked so bright._ Spins and lifts and beautiful footwork. If they weren’t coming to the end of Viktor’s career, they could easily move into pair skating. It’s fun. Yuuri loves playing on the ice with Viktor. The audience laps up their theatrics. There’s so much of Yuuri’s style mixed in with Viktor’s signature jumps. They land on the ice in sync. Nothing is out of place. It’s so romantic that Viktor will live on in Yuuri’s skating until he retires. Because Yuuri is better for knowing, loving, living with Viktor.

And then the music transitions into another song by the same artist.

Nobody should be surprised. There’d been ample polls about whether this was going to be ‘the engagement’ but the crowd gasps.

_You think that we’re meant to be  
So I’m like, do you wanna marry me?_

This is the single most fun Yuuri has had in his life. Viktor can happily say the same. Because the answer to that question was a resounding ‘yes.’

When the music stops and the spotlight is on them in the centre of the ice, both finish on their knees, holding each other’s hands. They start to cry from being overwhelmed with joy. Someone brings over a microphone that Viktor asks for and the audience goes pin-drop silent.

“I need to give my family in Hasetsu thirty seconds to read over a letter that Minako-Sensei is handing to them now.” Yuuri pulls both of them up from the ground. They hold their breath, counting some time together. Taking their last moments. Then they nod and smile.

The audience takes a collective gasp.

“Yuuri Katsuki, how much does a polar bear weigh?”

“Enough to break the ice!” Yuuri giggles. He feels a dry laugh from the audience and once he recovers he continues. “Viktor Nikiforov, I have a very, very important question. Will you marry me?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” Viktor turns away dramatically, covering his face and the audience screams. “Because there’s something I need to tell you. But,” the pause is excessive. “May I call you Yuuri Katsuki- _Nikiforov_ anyway?”

Yuuri dramatically shrugs. “I suppose so. After all-”

“we’ve been married for almost two months now.” Viktor holds Yuuri’s hands and runs his thumbs over the back of them. “It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever kept secret. Congratulations to my husband, Yuuri Katsuki- _Nikiforov_. Free Skate World Record Holder. Grand Prix Final Gold Medallist. I do it for you.”

“Congratulations to my husband, Viktor _Katsuki_ -Nikiforov. For an incredible reign, five-time Gold Medallist. Olympian. What a way to end a competition. I do it for you.”

“And we,” Viktor positions himself to the audience. “We do it for you.”

Suddenly, Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit, Chris, Otabek, Celestino, Yakov, everyone has their skates on and are in the middle of the rink smothering them.

“What the fuck!” Phichit squeals. “When did this happen?”

“After Skate Canada,” Viktor says smoothly.

“We told you that we were done with proposals,” Yuuri laughed. Phichit tackles him to the ground.

Yuri’s stare shoots daggers, but he ends up grinning. “Shit, Katsuki-Nikiforov. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Which one of us?” Viktor asks, slinging his arm over Yuri who physically recoils. “Believe me, keeping it from you was the hardest.”

“Okay, okay, Jiji. Enjoy your moment. Stop making out on the ice.” Yuri ducks out of the squeeze.

When the screaming of their friends calms down, the spotlight is still on them. Yuuri takes the microphone again.

“I’m so proud to call you my husband. I hope in our lifetimes both Russia and Japan will support us legally. But in the meantime, thank you to all the countries that support same-sex marriage.”

“Now, if you don’t mind us, we’ve got some family to explain all of this to.”

Viktor whispers in Yuuri’s ear now that the microphone is turned off ‘and I’ve got someone who’s going to keep me up all night again.’ Viktor blows a kiss to the audience and Yuuri melts through the ice.

Yuuri winks at the audience, kisses Viktor one last time on the ice as a fellow competitor.

-

Yuuri and Viktor fall into their bed in Russia after a chaotic handful of days returning from Barcelona. They haven’t stopped smiling so hard it hurts. Haven’t stopped holding hands and calling each other ‘husband’ in every situation they possibly can. They cuddle with Makkachin. And when she’s had enough in the morning Yuuri gets up and puts breakfast out for her and thanks her for being so patient with their travel schedules.

Then they shut the door and make out.

Yuuri’s parents take the surprise in stride. They’re delighted. They’ve told everyone that’ll listen, at least three times. And they don’t feel shafted in the slightest. Especially because Yuuri has thought about them first and given them a handwritten card explaining why they chose to do it the way they did, with a photocopy of their marriage certificate. Mari admits she thought something was up when they were in Hasetsu, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Viktor reminds her that she mentioned them eloping and Yuuri thinking she’d had them cornered.

Now that Viktor’s not returning to the ice, they start to talk about what that means. Does Viktor need to stay in Russia? Does he want to after what happened with Yuuri? Does he want to return to Japan? Shall they try something new?

In the end, they’ve decided to move back to Japan, to Fukuoka City. Not so far from Yu-Topia at all. Plus, while it’s not a national-level same-sex marriage, Fukuoka has partnership certificates which help with things like living together. There’s a thriving international community with a lot of English around, so Viktor can get around much easier than Hasetsu too. It’s small steps. But it’s something. They’ll move a little before Christmas, in time for the Japanese Nationals so Yuuri can cheer Minami Kenjirou on again in person. Yuuri himself won’t be competing this year because he needs to rest, and the Japan Skating Federation is totally okay with him taking his time after such a spectacular performance.

Once they’re set up, Viktor will coach seniors, and Yuuri will begin to coach juniors. He’s not sure how he’ll shape up to be a coach, but half of Viktor’s program for their Grand Prix Free Skate was worked on by him. Sure, it’ll be a different dynamic, not sleeping with his students. But it’ll be a lot of fun. Yuuri’s remembered the joy of being on the ice and having fun and hopes he can pass that on to his younger skaters.

There’s dozens of sponsorship deals and interviews flooding in. Yuuri’s taking his time. Viktor’s setting up an agent to deal with it all. He laughs to himself that this all started because Yuri Plisetsky was angry at homophobic sponsors. And now companies and reporters can’t get enough of them.

There’s a huge party waiting when they return to the Onsen. The Nishigori’s, the triplets have gotten so tall in a year. Minako-Sensei. Yuuri’s family. There’s a ridiculous amount of food and alcohol spread out.

The surprise is that Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin are there too. “What?” Yuri scowls. “You’ve got your own place now. There’s room for more of us.” Hiroko ruffles his hair and tells him he’s “more than welcome. Your friend too. He seems nice! Quiet. But a nice boy!” Otabek bows and says thank you in broken Japanese. It’s obvious Yuri’s taught him a little of what he knows which seems to be a theme. When nobody’s looking, they’ve got their hands linked under the kotatsu as they watch a variety show.

Yuuri taps Otabek on his shoulder and asks him to follow him to grab some drinks for the table. Giving him the shovel talk (lite) in the kitchen about looking after Yuri’s heart. Otabek seems serious when he nods along with Yuuri and swears everything is at Yuri Plisetsky’s pace. Viktor just laughs as Yuri clams up, embarrassed that this is happening.

But.

He says thank you later in the night.

Viktor says thank you in return.

Plisetsky _doesn’t_ say thank you when Hiroko asks if he wants to share a room with Otabek or have separate rooms. If they want to share a futon. She winks like she knows. Yuri storms out of the room and drowns himself in the hot spring until he feels like it’s safe enough to come out.

Once the chaos settles down, Yuuri and Viktor are soaking alone in the hot pools, just before heading back to Fukuoka in the morning to start their new life for real. They’ll get the keys to their new house along the river with enough room in the yard for Makkachin and any other additions that may come to their puppy family. Go shopping for furniture together. With the rest of Yuuri’s prize money, he’s set it aside for repairs on Yu-Topia. He wants his parents to enjoy their retirement, but they won’t stop working for at least another two decades. That’s okay by him because they’re happy too with their early-morning wakeups and doting over customers. The hot springs are busier than ever. It’s only after dark they can soak in peace now.

Viktor’s arms are draped around Yuuri, who is sitting in his lap. His head is resting on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“This year doesn’t feel real,” Yuuri whispers.

“No, but it’s perfect,” Viktor kisses him on his crown. “I love you, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. My Yukai.”

“I love you too, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov. _Vitenka_. Forever, and always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri’s short program was Nervous Energy by Glades. It was a late switch, it was something they’d been playing with earlier in the season but with the scandal, he thought it was an appropriate song for him. Him and Viktor had prepared a few songs in backup just in case, but this wasn’t one of them. Viktor’s sure if Yuuri had stuck to his previous (unnamed) song, he’d hold both World Records. But it was worth it for the theatrics.
> 
> Viktor’s short program was Hey Look Ma, I Made it by Panic! At The Disco, which was the song he’d been working on all year for the Grand Prix Finals alongside his previous (unnamed) classical song. Working through this program helped him resolve his history with his mother. Though she’s still not around, it doesn’t really bother Viktor so much anymore.
> 
> It’s very early in the season they decide to skate their Free to In my head – Galantis.
> 
> And the exhibition was a mashup of All Things and Marry Me by Betty Who, which they got commissioned before their wedding.
> 
> I realise I haven't talked much about Kira for a few chapters. She's off living her best life and messaging Viktor and Yuuri just as eagerly about how happy she is for them. x
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)  
> "I do it for you." <3


End file.
